


Through the Looking Glass

by Skyelane



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: All the impressions, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/M, Friendship/Love, Sabé needs a raise, Slow Burn, So many biscuits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2019-12-26 16:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 54,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18285986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyelane/pseuds/Skyelane
Summary: In which I realize that when offered a second chance after death, it's always best to read the fine print. Playing decoy for Padmé Amidala and keeping her alive is much more work than I anticipated.





	1. I Didn't Sign Up For This

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there... this is what happens when my brain asks, "What would happen if someone were reincarnated as a Star Wars character?" I hope you enjoy my take on a certain Handmaiden's journey!

They say when you are about to die your life flashes before your eyes.

I can attest to the utter falsehood of said statement, as when I was about to die, all I could think was, “I’m going to die.” I wish I could say my thoughts at the time were much more eloquent, but I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.

There were no flashbacks, no chances to reminisce on my previous seventeen years of living on this Earth, and thankfully, no pain when the car that swerved into my lane collided with me head-on.

To explain where I am now is… difficult at best, impossible at worst. I stare at a great void. Everything surrounding me is a morose shade of grey. No sound, no warmth, no life… just absolute nothingness.

I stare at my hands, watching the muscles and bones move beneath my skin as I flex my fingers. If I am dead, how do I still have a body? I press my nails into my palms and see the pink, crescent shapes they leave behind. Poking my arm immediately afterwards serves to prove I have not lost the sense of touch.

I don’t believe time exists here, wherever I am. Despite this I begin to move forward. The urge to break the silence should be overwhelming but I cannot bring myself to care.

With each step, the emptiness settles further inside my chest. Memories of who I am ─ Or perhaps, now, who I once was? This afterlife nonsense is confusing. ─ begin to color my surroundings. I see pictures of my family members, friends, and moments that made my, albeit brief, life worthwhile.

In an instant, the memories halt. Looking over my shoulder reveals a steady, burgeoning light burning over the events and people I care about. Ahead of me is a near-translucent wall, made of a reflective material like glass. The image in front of me, however, ripples and flows as if a current runs through it. I raise my hand towards the wall and hesitate.

 _“You always have a choice.”_ The words are not spoken aloud in this silent void. I sense them as if they are speaking directly to my mind. _“Remain in peace... “_

My surroundings morph and blur into a radiant garden filled with beautiful colors, life, and music. A waterfall flows from a high, snow-capped peak and ends in a semi-circular pool that feeds smaller streams and brooks. Warmth from a light source, purer than anything I’ve ever experienced, creates a happy and relaxing atmosphere. Tears fill my eyes unexpectedly.

Now _this_ is much closer to my idea of an afterlife.

_“… Or fulfill a new role.”_

The wall transforms into a vast, star-filled sky. Light streaks across the surface, similar to a meteor shower I’d witnessed once when I was a little girl. I do not know what this disembodied Voice means by, ‘new role,’ but the emptiness I felt in my chest is steadily being replaced by anticipation, excitement even.

I can stay here, in comfort and rest or I can go into something unknown and fascinating. What to choose… what to choose?

I close my eyes and breathe deeply. Bidding goodbye to the offering of paradise, I lift my hand to the wall and step into the sky.

* * *

 

I wish I can tell you that being reborn is a wonderful, heart-warming experience I will always treasure. Unfortunately, it is the exact opposite ─ I would not recommend it.

Who knows, I may not even remember it once it’s over with?

The only way I can describe it is like feeling every infinitesimal part of you being energized and then compressed into the tiniest vessel possible. It reminds me loosely ─ And I use the term, ‘loosely,’ lightly! ─ of the scene in Aladdin where the Genie describes having phenomenal, cosmic power and itty-bitty living space.

Now, if you take that description and amplify it to the highest degree, you may have a picture of what I am in the midst of. As the life energy around me moves forward, I see glimpses of massive, spherical bodies in space and time. I wiz by them in a streak of light ─ I’d become my own form of comet, as it were.

I do not know how far and long I travel in this manner, making no sense of my path as I approach a blue-green sphere. It’s size and shape reminds me of Earth, though the geographical structure and cloud formations vary.

As I burst through the atmosphere and soar through clear, sparkling skies I sense the abundant surge of life around me. This place is _beautiful_. From several, towering mountain ranges, to powerful waterfall chains, vividly green forests, and eerie, shaded marshes. I pass a large settlement with domed shaped roofs, colorful banners hanging from poles and booths, meticulously carved statues and glowing hearths in each windowsill.

The pinnacle of this town is a palace, perched at the end of the largest grouping of waterfalls I’ve seen thus far, filling a gigantic, winding lake basin. My heart tugs at the sense of belonging I felt.

_Home._

Despite my yearning for this familiar, yet unnamable place, my journey continues on to a quiet, coastal community nestled just beyond an industrial area filled with warehouses and technological factories. The coastline is quiet this evening, with few individuals walking along the sandy beaches.

The light around me begins to dim as I approach a young couple, hand-in-hand as they stroll along the water’s edge. They either do not see me or otherwise have extremely poor observational skills for missing a swift beam of light heading in their direction.

The young woman has a kind face, with clear blue eyes and a thick mass of dark hair spilling down her back. The man with her has a strong jaw, though its edges are softened by the affectionate smile on his face. He looks away from his companion for a brief moment and reveals dark eyes framed by thick eyelashes.

Something about them draws me in, like a gravitational pull. I am the planet circling their star.

I come to a complete stop in front of them, hovering in mid air as they draw closer to one another. My body, that has previously felt so thoroughly compacted, begins to expand and dissolve. The last thing I see before disappearing completely is the woman’s smile as she rests her hand on her midriff.

* * *

 

You know how I said being reborn is something I would not recommend?

Being _literally_ reborn is on a level of it’s own. For your sake and mine, I will go into no further detail concerning this.

I remember sleeping for a long time, occasionally being disturbed by noise and the urge to stretch as much as possible. It was simultaneously uncomfortable and the safest place I could imagine.

When I eventually see the people, who I quickly discover are meant to be my new parents, I cannot help but cry. I am so happy they are with me and I am with them. How could I be with anyone better?

My mother, the kindest person I’ve known in my thirty minutes of new life, is beautiful. My father looks at me with tears in his eyes as he holds me with such gentleness. I try to tell him that I am thankful for his consideration of me but I am so tired. Being born is hard work.

Before I drift away, my father begins an important discussion about, well, me:

“We never did decide on a name, Rumé.”

“Now that I have seen her, it is much more difficult. How can we choose a name for someone so perfect?”

I strain to stay awake. I’d like to know my new name, if they would be so kind.

“We could name her after your mother? Kellis is a lovely name.”

No─just, no. That’s not right. I scrunch my nose in protest.

I hear laughter. “I don’t think she likes that choice at all.” Well, at least they are listening to me. “How about Noeshé?”

Even worse… how was that possible? More laughter follows.

“Alright, little one. What about Sabina?”

 _Sabina_ … that’s an interesting name ─ let’s go with that one.

“I think that’s the one, Doman.”

“I agree. Welcome to Naboo, little Sabina. We are so happy to meet you.”

As I begin to relax and allow sleep to overcome my senses, an important question lingers in my mind.

Where have I heard the word, ‘Naboo,’ before?

* * *

 

It takes a year and a half before I finally remember why that name is so important to me.

The realization comes as I am sitting in our family room. The holoset is blaring louder than normal and it distracts me from the important tower of blocks I am building.

_“Theed is alight with music and dancing as the Festival of Light begins. We are moments away from King Veruna making his first appearance to light the ceremonial flame. Senator Palpatine is looking as put together as always in his traditional, Senatorial robes.”_

Palpatine! I look up at the holoset and send my fiercest glare. Even if my linguistic skills had caught up with my mind by this point, I would not be capable of fully expressing my anger. I hate him! I hate him and everything his machinations brought upon the people in the galaxy─

A galaxy far… far away… Kriff! I’m in Star Wars.

_How!?_

“Sabina! What is wrong?” Mama comes hobbling into the room ─ she’s rather pregnant with my unborn brother or sister ─ as I toss wooden blocks at the holoset. They do no harm to the projected image. “That is it. No more blocks for you this evening.”

“Bad!” I garble at the image of Sheev Palpatine, or Darth Sidious rather, emblazoned on the wall. Mother lifts me into her arms and shakes her head. “Bad-bad! No-no!”

“Why are you so angry at Senator Palpatine, little one?” She muses as we move into the kitchen. Dad, who is reading the daily news on his datapad, does not seem bothered by my display.

“Because she’s smart ─ you can never truly trust a politician.” He has _no_ idea how true that statement is. “Our Sabina is quite an excellent judge of character.”

Mama sets me in the high chair, as our utility droid, K4-M8 rolls up with a plate balanced between his extendable ports. She lifts the plate and sets it before me. “Thank you, Kayfour.” I stare at the food in front of me. How can I eat at a time like this!? “Honestly, Doman, don’t go putting ideas in her head. She’s only eighteen months old.”

“It is important that she is well informed, my dear.” Well-informed does not even begin to describe me. What am I supposed to do with all this information? Why do I even remember it all?

“Be that as it may, if it weren’t for a certain legislative youth program you and I would never have met.”

Star Wars! I didn’t sign up to be in Star Wars!

If I ever find the source of that disembodied Voice, we will have words.

“And I am thankful for that program every morning when I arise, and every evening when I lay beside my beautiful wife.”

“Who’s the charming politician now, hmm?”

Mama and Dad continue to bandy words back and forth, while she simultaneously spoons muja fruit into my mouth. Normally, I like this fruit and have no problems with it, but having it during the middle of an existential crisis tends to ruin the taste.

“Oh, Sabina!” She wipes my chin, rather forcefully in my opinion, before hovering another spoonful in front of my mouth. “I don’t know what is wrong, dear one, but you are going to eat your food!”

I succumb to the superior strength and knowledge of my mother and eat the rest of my meal without incident.

A short time later, she has tucked me into bed and is stroking her fingers through my hair in a way that never fails to lull me into sleep. Even though my mind is racing with, “What am I going to do?” and, “Am I the only one who has been reborn into Star Wars before?” and, “What did the Voice mean by fulfilling a new role?” my eyes begin to close.

I suppose I have time to figure out what my plan will be.

* * *

 

The next morning, I arise with a new sense of purpose and endless source of frustration.

I have so many questions and a pitiable lack of answers. In my former life, my older brother had been the true fan concerning Star Wars. He spent his time in the Expanded Universe, which would eventually become Legends , while all I did was marvel over Ewan McGregor’s rather handsome face. (In all honesty, can you blame me? I think not!)

Though I did like the Knights of the Old Republic games… why didn’t I end up in _that_ timeline? I’d at least have a better idea of what I’m doing!

Was the Voice somehow connected to the Force? Did the Force have connections into alternate universes? Was George Lucas reborn from this universe into my original one?

Wait, that would be extremely strange.

The heaviest and most important question is this: now that I’m here, what am I supposed to do with the knowledge I have?

It’s not as if I can _do_ anything with it. Even if, hypothetically, I manage to out-manipulate the Master of Masterful Manipulation (read: Palpatine) he could, quite skillfully even in a hypothetical scenario, electrocute me into a diminutive pile of space dust and, frankly, I do not want to discover what that would feel like. I hate the sensation of static electricity ─ how am I supposed to survive a full on attack from a lightning-happy Sith lord!?

Another thing: if I tell anyone about the strange sequence of events that led to my subsequent rebirth into this universe, they will send me away in a padded airspeeder where I will likely be subjected to various attempts of psychoanalysis and fed tasteless food until I genuinely lose the tenuous grip on my sanity.

I’m just one person. A child of Naboo with no Force sensitivity, that I’m aware of, and no connections to any of the key characters in the Star Wars universe ─ also, I’m slightly miffed I wasn’t born as a Jedi, or as another species. How cool would that have been!?

Either way, this is my new life. I have to figure this out and until I am capable of doing more things ─ Toddlers are limited, at best. ─ I will just have to listen. This may not have been my specialty as a teenager on Earth, but I can adapt here.

Stars… this is going to be some adventure, isn’t it?

* * *

 

I dedicate myself to doing just that: listening. Even as my younger sister, Halleth, is born and manages to scream for the first two months of her life ─ Apparently colicky babies have a place in Naboo as well.  ─ and my extended family members constantly question my parents about when my formal, political education will begin.

My dad, in his own, lovely way, is determined to keep Halleth and myself away from Theed and politics as much as possible. He never explains why he holds such firm antagonism towards the capital and as I grow older, I fail to ask.

Mama, on the other hand, cannot speak more fondly of Naboo’s capital. She often reminisces on her time spent there, her childhood dream of becoming a Royal Handmaiden, and always manages to talk my dad into taking us to Theed every year for the Festival of Light once Halleth is old enough.

The longing I feel when I see the Palace grows stronger and stronger each year.

I spend a significant portion of time reading, though Naboo’s written language is far more difficult than spoken Basic, and after my sixth birthday, I begin drafting my little sister into various plays about Galactic and Naboo history. She rather hates the costumes I make for her, as she prefers to spend her time outside climbing trees and nurturing the local flora, but our parents never fail to give us standing ovations after each and every performance.

They especially enjoy my impersonation of Governor Bibble, having watched so many of his speeches on the holoset. (“Reprehensible, reprehensible, I say!”)

At eight years old, the local instructors speak to my parents on the subject of furthering my education. It was of their opinion that our quiet, coastal town, Kaadara, did not possess the resources needed to help me reach my fullest potential ─ despite my often expressed love for my home.

It seems that my chance at rebirth gave me a gift I did not possess before. I know for a fact that my physiological makeup has not changed ─I’m as human now as I was in my former life─ but my comprehensive skills and retention have greatly exceeded those in my age bracket.

I wish I would’ve had this skill before. Passing finals would have been _so_ much easier.

On the eve of my entrance exams for the Royal Academy, my mother pulls me aside for one of her famous tea-time discussions. I have theorized that the size of the caf mug offered is directly proportional to the gravity of the conversation about to be had.

As it is, I have a hard time lifting said mug. It is large enough to be a soup bowl.

“Sabina, I want you to know how very proud I am of you.” Mama has a sad smile on her face, even while she’s sipping her favorite blend of tea. She has no issue with lifting her tiny mug by comparison. “I know this decision has not been easy for us as a family, but I know you will soar given this sort of opportunity.”

“Yes, mama.” I am torn between sadness of possibly leaving my home and hope of fulfilling my yearning for being close to the Palace again. I cannot explain my attachment to it. “Just… promise me you’ll always comm me or send me messages.” My eyes fill with tears. “I will miss you too much, otherwise.”

Dad chooses this moment to step inside our small dining room and wrap us both up in his arms. I cry for what the future may hold and for the loss of my safety net at home. I suspect he sheds tears, too.

Halleth, characteristic of the little sister I love always and tolerate occasionally, gives me a bouquet of millaflowers the next morning before our mother leaves with me for the entrance exams. I open my mouth to thank her, as I know her garden is precious to her, and find myself at a loss for words when she says: “Now, these are for decoration _only_. Don’t let any of your classmates smoke it.”

All I can do is hug her and wonder when and how she learned of millaflower’s hallucinogenic properties.

I also made a point before I left to leave a slew of holopics of myself, making various hideous faces, on her personal datapad. Therefore, it’ll be as if I never left.

As Mama and I leave, I turn back and wave to Halleth and Dad through the back of the airspeeder. I will never forget seeing my sister tucked into his side, waving a handkerchief I’d embroidered for her as I left home behind.

* * *

 

One thing that surprises me about the Royal Academy is it’s system of dormitories. I knew I would have to relocate to Theed upon receiving my acceptance, but sharing a floor with twenty girls ranging from age six to eighteen seems like a recipe for disaster.

Somehow, this hierarchy works within the facets of Naboo culture that put less stock in physical age and more emphasis on mental maturity. It is overwhelming at first to juggle all the various needs and personalities within my floor, the House of the Suns. I spend many evenings with my blanket tucked to my nose while wishing for the salt-air breeze of Kaadara to drift through my open window.

Thankfully, the Masters and Madams that established the Academy had a general idea of what they were doing. My roommates and I eventually learn to co-exist with each other in relative harmony ─ after the eldest, Vella, compiles a list titled, ‘Rules of Engagement,’ and sends it to our personal datapads.

I still don’t know how she managed to discover our contact addresses. Part of me suspects she has slicing skills that she will deny vehemently if confronted.

I struggle in the beginning with finding my role within my fellow Suns. Not everyone appreciates my gift for impersonations, until I begin mimicking Master Kendo, our infamous philosophy instructor. (“It is perceptibly clear that the meaning of life, students, is murkier than the swamps of the Gungan proletariat. One must maintain serenity in all things─Jerek! Put that datapad down this instant or you shall scrub these hallowed halls with your personal toothbrush!─to better prepare yourself for the eventual disillusionment that awaits you.”) This, for some strange reason, earns me the title of, “Silly Sabina.”

This nickname haunts me for years to come.

Rabelle, one of my closest and dearest friends, and I face mutual uncertainty about our future career paths. At ages eleven and ten, this question is posed to us often by our educators. We spend many evenings mulling over this very predicament, in semi-hushed voices out of respect for our roommates.

“I don’t know, Sabina. Madam Shen-Barek thinks I should apply for the Legislative Youth Program.” As she says this, she twists the end of her braid with her hands. “Especially since my family wants me to pursue entrance into Theed University.”

Knowing this disregard for hair care to be one of her few nervous habits, I ask: “Well… is that what you want to do?” Rabelle also comes from a long established noble family, her father being a third-generation legislator. If she hadn’t of passed her entrance exams with flying colors, I can only imagine what path her creative brilliance would have led her on.

“Not really, no.” she sighs wearily. “To tell you the truth, I’d much rather seek out a creative field: like joining the Great Theater, or cosmetology.”

“After hearing your singing voice and experiencing your skills of hairdressing, I understand how this would be a difficult choice for you.” She is ridiculously talented at both. I often ignore the needling voice of jealousy that reminds me I have no musical talent whatsoever. “But, if you do join the program, you get the highly sought after annual trip to Chandrila. I’ve heard their food is nothing short of heavenly. They have _sweetcakes._ ”

She laughs, worries seeming to melt away for the moment. “Sabina, only you would consider joining a Galactic-wide political organization for the sake of a meal.”

“You don’t understand the gravity of this situation, Rabelle! Cakes, in their simplest form, are already sweet. The Chandrilans, by some form of Force-craft, have managed to take this sweetness and bring it to exponential heights.” I pause in my tirade about one of my favorite subjects. “Do you think Cook Wildyn has any dessert leftover from our luncheon? I’m starving.”

“I don’t know how you manage to put away so much food without severe weight gain,” she says, revealing some jealousy of her own. “Your eating habits are borderline gluttonous.”

“Just because I had a loaf of bread hanging out of my mouth when we met doesn’t make me a glutton.” Upon my arrival at the Academy, I sought out the kitchens first. Rabelle and I collided shortly after. After said collision, we were subjected to many assumptions that we were related due to our similar dark-haired, dark-eyed features. “Besides, I’m a growing girl. Sustenance is key.”

“Will you two be quiet and go to bed?” an irritated voice chimes in from the bed to our right. “Some of us have important exams in the morning!”

Rabelle and I look at each other in alarm, before shrugging our shoulders in a manner that spoke of weary acquiescence. Some of our roommates don’t appreciate our spirited conversations.

I can never figure out why.

* * *

 

_‘Halleth, for the millionth time: no, I cannot mail you any reeksa seedlings. One, I’m not taking xenobiology as a course this term and two, it’s a carnivorous plant. This may translate to you as, ‘exciting,’ and, ‘intriguing,’ ─ but to the rest of the galaxy it translates as, ‘dangerous.’ Being eaten by a plant doesn’t make for an inspiring epitaph on a grave marker._

_Also, how did you find out we had this plant at the Academy for a research study? If you weren’t so set on being a gardener, I’d wager you’d make a terrifying information broker._

_Ask me again and I will release our home holovid of my favorite production onto the HoloNet. You remember it, don’t you? You played such an excellent King Veruna._

_Give my love to Mama and Dad. I’ll see you in the summer recess._

_XOXO Sabina, the best older sister in the galaxy.’_

**_‘Higher education has made you hard._ **

**_XOXO Halleth, younger sibling to the worst blackmailer in the galaxy.’_ **

_‘You say the sweetest things, Howl-eth._

_XOXO Sabina, the older sister who will always win.’_

  * Datapad message thread between Sabina Averna and Halleth Averna.



* * *

 

It is, surprisingly, during our mandatory exercise period that I sense some inkling as to what my purpose is here.

This day is obstacle course day; arguably the favorite exercise for the entire student populace. The course itself changes every time and it is a wonderful chance to relieve some of the stress brought on by our ever increasing assignments and examinations.

“Who do you think will win this time?” Jerek whispers in my ear. “Oli or Namu-Rya?”

The two in question are Oli Hisite and Namu-Rya Min, the Academy’s top competitors in, well, every category. I am not certain as to why the human and Twi’lek are so concerned with one-upping the other, but it makes for an entertaining afternoon watching them. As Namu-Rya threatens to strangle Oli with her lekku, I feel a nudge to my side; Jerek, again.

“You never answered my question… “ I’ve discovered over time that he does not like to be ignored. “Wake up, spacer.”

“I’m fully awake, _thank you very much_ , and we both know that Namu-Rya will win. Otherwise, how is Oli going to ask her to the Spring Formal?”

The infatuation between the two was another favorite subject amongst the student body. I have a running wager with Rabelle that Oli will ask Namu-Rya to be his girlfriend before the term is up in three months. She thinks he won’t last another six weeks.

“That’s… probably true.” Jerek shakes his head, causing his blonde bangs to land in his eyes. He puffs them away with his lower lip. “Did you hear about the visitor?”

“What visitor?” I begin stretching. Having been through enough obstacle courses, I know the danger of cramping up at the worst possible time.

“Lieutenant Panaka, you know: second-in-command of the RNSF.”

I stop stretching long enough to give Jerek a disbelieving look. “Either you’re extremely bored to make up a story about him visiting us, for no plausible reason I will add, or you’re telling the truth.”

As it turns out, truth is stranger than fiction. Lieutenant Panaka is actually present and not some fanciful story Jerek came up with. He states, after Madam Brigg’s verbose recounting of the man’s accomplishments, that he is here to merely observe. I try my utmost best to maintain a nonchalant expression.

If I am unable to change things, I realize that I am staring at a future Imperial Moff. Even worse: the man who eventually informs Palpatine about Anakin and Padme’s secret marriage.

I thought he would’ve been taller

Eventually, it is my turn to run the course and I suddenly regret the shuura fruit tarts I ate right after second period. I am a fairly quick runner but attempting this with a full stomach may not end very well for me.

As I vault over the first gate, cursing under my breath, I notice something odd about the layout of the course. Upon first glance, the only way to complete it would be to crawl underneath several low-hanging beams, then shimmy up a wall where two platforms extend out just enough to give leverage, followed by a rope swing to a set of cross bars I’d have to strong arm though to reach the end.

However, there appears to be a long balance beam suspended over the length of the course. It’s nearly invisible to the naked eye, as it looks like it’s made of military grade glass. If the sunlight hadn’t caught it just-so, I would’ve missed it entirely.

Well then… it’s not like it’s against the rules for me to take advantage of that.

I hear laughter behind me as I climb to the top of the balance beam, Jerek being the loudest, and begin a shaky, but quick journey across the top. (Don’t look down, Sabina, don’t look down.) After what seems to be an eternity later, I hop down to the end platform and place my hand on the red panel to clock my time for the course.

Rabelle, who is able to avoid the course today by assisting Madam Brigg, waits at the end to pass a towel to me. “I’m fairly sure that’s considered cheating.”

“I utilized my surroundings, just like we’ve been taught by Madam Brigg. If anything, she should be proud.”

“Oh, yes, I imagine she’s so proud of the girl she caught sneaking a sandwich into her meditative classes just last week.”

“How am I supposed to, ‘center myself,’ if my stomach is constantly grumbling? That would be much more distracting than my eating.”

We both turn at the sound of someone clearing their throat. My eyes widen once I realize Lieutenant Panaka is right behind me. How much of that had he heard?

“What is your name, student?” The question is directed towards me, which reminds me to stop gaping at the man like a moron.

“Sabina Averna, sir.” He nods and gestures to the course behind us with his thumb.

“That was an impressive observation, Student Averna.” I open my mouth to reply and fall short as he nods once again, though this is done in dismissal. He turns into an immediate about-face.

“Thank… you?” My voice ends on a higher note. Rabelle stares at the back of the man’s head as he walks away. “What just happened?”

“It’s called a compliment, even though the delivery was rather odd.”

A few months later, it comes as a shock when I receive a message on my datapad from a Royal House address. (Seriously, how do people keep finding my data address? They must’ve compared notes with Vella.) It takes all of two seconds before I open the message and read the beginning with disbelieving eyes.

_‘Student Sabina Averna,_

_I am contacting you in regards to a recommendation placed by the Royal Naboo Security Force’s Lieutenant Panaka. We at the RNSF would like to extend an invitation to you to join our Youth Security Training Program. This will allow an excellent opportunity to advance within a future career at the Royal Palace, if this is your desire. The references from your educators speak highly of you._

_Upon acceptance of our invitation, please refer to the attached files for various background checks and other legal documents. If you have any questions, you may contact me at… ‘_

I read over the message multiple times, trying to discern whether or not this was legitimate. After two hours of mulling, I forward the contents to my mother. (I may or may not have titled the header as, ‘Is this a prank?’) Within five minutes, I have a response from her.

**_‘Sabina, this is the farthest thing from a joke. In fact, it is a high honor that has been bestowed upon you… ‘_ **

Before I can finish reading her message, my comm lets out a blaring noise. That’s odd, Halleth never comms me… I hope everything is alright. I pick it up from my bedside table and install the earpiece for privacy.  “Sabina here,”

“Since when did you want to become a Royal Handmaiden!?”

 

 

 


	2. A New Name

It is all fun and games until someone kicks you in the ribcage.

This, unfortunately, has occurred one too many times during my training at the RNSF headquarters ─ which is situated, conveniently, within walking distance of the Royal Palace and the Academy. I have stumbled, many a time, into my bed whilst holding a bacta patch to various parts of my body.

After receiving that message about joining their Youth Security Training Program, I spent weeks debating the pros and cons of what may lie before me.

Pro: I’d be trained to defend myself and others, which I know will come in handy concerning future events. Con: I’d see my family even less than I already do. Pro: I’d get to, possibly, travel the galaxy if I make it into the highly coveted occupation of Royal Handmaidenship. Con: If I don’t get into said occupation, they may assign me as a pilot ─ and I’m a horrid flier. Pro: I’ve heard the Royal Palace kitchens have amazing food. Con: I may not have much time to enjoy previously mentioned amazing food.

And so forth and so on… eventually, my datapad list grew to the point of needing to delete obsolete files. Rabelle was an excellent sounding board for me during this time, which leads to a greater surprise this evening as I moan into my pillow about sadistic training officers.

“Honestly, Sabina, is it truly that bad?”

I lift my head away from my pillow long enough to send a scathing glare in Rabelle’s direction. “Do you know what it’s like to have your ribs throbbing in concert? I do.” I drop my head once more.

I fail to mention the fact I was goofing off during training, which led to my newest injury. I’d been in the midst of my recently honed impersonation of Mali Nightbreak, the newest local holonewscaster, (“Stars, would you look at the hemline on the Princess of Theed’s gown? It is dazzling ─ _dazzling!”_ ) then had my backside handed to me by Lieutenant Typho. He did apologize profusely, before sending me to the RNSF medcenter. The nurses know me by name now.

Then again, I have spent enough time with them over the past three years.

“If you dislike it so much: why are you doing it? It seems to me you could pursue a more, shall we say, peaceful career?”

I lift my head again, pondering her words with furrowed brows. “I… can’t really explain it. Even if the training officers are incredibly hard-nosed, and I’ve become acquainted with the texture and taste of bacta in a way I never thought possible, it still feels _right_. Like that scene in the holodrama you like so much about the Rodian and the Aqualish─”

“Oh! The one where they face off against the horde of rakghouls with only a hydrospanner and a faulty blaster, to defend their right to love each other after their families exiled them? I _adore_ that holoseries. I wish it had not been canceled.”

Rabelle has a talent for finding obscure, doomed-to-be-cancelled holoseries.

“Um… I was referring to their lesser-known moment where they walk into the empty warehouse and decide to open a medcenter, but your scene is just as poignant.” I roll over onto my back and wince at the soreness I feel, well, everywhere. “They knew it was what they’re supposed to do and─I still don’t know if this makes sense─being in this program seems like the right thing for me.”

Rabelle is uncharacteristically quiet while I begin stretching my legs, counting at least ten bruises on my left shin alone. I am in the midst of counting my bruise collection on my right when she says: “I got a message from the RNSF, too.”

“What!?” I sit up, curse once and then twice for good measure, and then turn towards her. “When did this happen?”

“About a week ago,” She passes her datapad for me to read over the message that’s nearly identical to the one I received, “You’re the first person I’ve told.”

“Not even your parents?”

She shakes her head. “No. I’m not sure which will be more difficult: telling them that I’ve been approached, or telling them I’m going to join.”

“You’re joining!?” Suddenly, all the aches and pains I’ve been feeling begin to fade. My best friend is coming with me! Before I can wrap her up in a hug, a thought occurs to me. “But what about the Grand Theater or cosmetology? It’s all you’ve talked about since we met.”

“Think about it, Sabina. You’re on the track to become a Royal Handmaiden, right?” I nod. “What exactly do you think is in the job description?”

I begin reciting the list I’d memorized. I can visualize it before me, like watching a holoset. “Attending the monarch’s needs whilst utilizing specialized security skills, diplomacy, and the ability to serve without promise of public awareness or accolades;”

“If things keep going the way they are in Theed, we will likely have a Queen. Especially with that girl ─ Amidala, I think is her name? ─ rising in office. Do you know the training we’ll receive for applying cosmetics, designing and outfitting, and hairdressing? I could take this route and completely bypass cosmetology school.”

My stomach flips at the thought of Padmé in her recently appointed office as Princess of Theed. I’m not certain about the exact timeline of when she will be elected Queen, but with the growing opposition to King Veruna it won’t be much longer. Maybe a year or two, if I’m being generous.

Also, though the thought of having Rabelle with me is exciting, this means she will be at a greater risk once the Trade Federation invades. I am rather protective of the people I care about and do not want her to be in danger.

“Sabina? You’re off in space again,” I shake my head, forcing my worrisome thoughts away for the moment. “Sometimes I wonder where your mind goes when you’re so quiet.”

“You don’t want to know, trust me.” I attempt a bright grin, hoping it appears genuine and not panicked. “If you’re going to join the RNSF with me, does this mean you’ll help me learn how to braid?”

At Rabelle’s delighted squeal, I suspect I’ll be an expert in hairstyling shortly.

What can go wrong?

* * *

 

_“Trainees,_

_It has come to our attention that a certain few amongst the current roster have taken to impersonating various diplomatic figures. While such creativity and talent may be considered admirable, it is not appropriate during a Galactic relations symposium hosted by the Honorable Senator Palpatine._

_If such activities continue, there will be demerits issued and a meeting with the Disciplinary Board immediately following. If you witness any further insulting impersonations, please bring all concerns to your lead training officer._

_Captain Magneta of the Royal Naboo Security Force “_

  * _RNSF memo delivered to all Youth Security Training Program recruits._



 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you did that.”

“Did you see the look on Panaka’s face? Priceless!”

“I’d give all my credits if anyone captured that on holovid.”

These are all statements said to me as I walk down the hallway.

My reputation as, ‘Silly Sabina,’ has taken on a new light after enduring the recent symposium mandatory for all trainees. I didn’t exactly _intend_ to start a competition between the trainees seated in my row, but circumstances being what they were (read: horrifically boring) led to a round of, “Guess-Who-I-Am,” the likes I’ve never seen before.

We were being quiet about it, or so I thought until the filming droid superimposed our laughter onto the holoscreen in the midst of my Palpatine impersonation.

Panaka nearly had a stroke.

“Your impression of Palpatine is a little off, Sabina. You always make him sound sort of… I don’t know, diabolical and wicked.” Sachra, a trainee a few years younger than Rabelle and I, comments as we depart the disciplinary hearing.  I’ll be scrubbing databases clean for months. “He seems like a really nice man.”

I can’t explain what the man truly is, without the lingering possibility of being committed for insanity, so I try to point out his creepier mannerisms as often as possible. “Have you seen the way he stares at people? It’s like he’s trying to read their mind, or think of the best way to manipulate them with said person being none the wiser. Don’t be fooled by the nice act!”

“Next time you begin ranting about conspiracy theories, let me have at least one cup of caf beforehand.”  Rabelle grumbles. She, by way of unfortunate association, had been drawn into the disciplinary hearing as well.  “Don’t even get her started on Trade Federation pay rates.”

“Think about it: how does the Trade Federation get away with paying their employees essentially nothing? You know that any plasma they harvest from Naboo is being sold at astronomical amounts to neighboring systems, despite the laws in place here to prevent price-gauging, yet a simple search on the HoloNet reveals most TF employees have to work second or third jobs to make ends meet! It is a horrendous, immoral─”

“Oh, why did I even bring it up?” Rabelle moans. “I know better than this.”

“It’s a serious issue! Next thing you know, the Trade Federation will try to sink their claws further into our home to gain a monopoly on the plasma industry.” I also have a tendency to point out every negative thing I can about the Trade Federation, for obvious reasons.

“Careful, Sabina,” Sachra grins. She thoroughly enjoys my, ‘theories,’ and encourages me to speak about them as often as possible. “You’re starting to sound like Princess Amidala. Are we going to see you protest King Veruna in the streets with the rest of her entourage?”

“Ha! We all know that neither of us have time to protest.” I was barely juggling my schoolwork and training as is. “I have to master the Nova Sundari-style hairdo by the end of this week or I will fail the hairdressing portion of our training miserably.”

“I think you’re not using the cage correctly,” Rabelle comments as we step into the streets of Theed. “It’s meant to be the foundation of the hairstyle, without too much pinning.”

“It’s a kriffing rectangle! Why would anyone in their right mind want to walk around looking like the end of a vacuuming unit!?”

Rabelle and Sachra share a look before the latter runs to a nearby booth. I would comment, had I not become accustomed to her tendency to disappear like that. She returns momentarily and places sticky-buns in our hands.

“Here, I think we all need to eat something before Sabina’s head explodes.”

“Hmm?” They burst into laughter at my puffy cheeks. I’ve already eaten half of my sticky-bun. I forgot this booth was so close to RNSF headquarters, I need to buy these more often.

“Did you hear about Legislator Eirtani vying for election? She may even go against Princess Amidala.” Sachra has a never ending interest in current political events. I think if I didn’t know already know about what the future holds, her predictions would more than make up for it.

“She’s the one from the Royal House of Learning, right?” Rabelle asks curiously. We all share an eye roll. The House of Learning is our rival school. “She may be tough competition, if that’s the case.”

“I don’t know about that. The Princess has a following from multiple groups, even if Eirtani is backed by King Veruna.”

“But King Veruna hasn’t been very popular as of late, especially with his term running for so long… “ Rabelle’s voice trails off as a breaking news icon flashes on holosets all around us. Other passersby pause in the midst of their travels as we listen to Mali Nightshade’s urgent report. The woman looks uncharacteristically somber, with far less glitter eyeshadow applied than normal.

_“It has come to our attention here at Theed News A-27 that King Veruna has abdicated from his role as Naboo’s monarch. We have not received confirmation from the Royal Advisory Council, but it is suspected that now former King Veruna’s abdication is linked to rumors of corruption within Foreign Affairs. This will call for an emergency election, as he has not finished his term to completion.”_

“Stars… “ Rabelle whispers. “Do you have any theories about this one, Sabina?”

I remember reading a book about Darth Plagueis and his involvement with the monarchs of Naboo. It won’t be long before King Veruna is murdered by the Sith Lord himself. The thought sends shivers down my spine. Palpatine’s manipulations are only beginning.

“My theory is… we may have the opportunity to be Royal Handmaidens sooner than we thought.”

* * *

 

I return to my dormitory floor, after a haphazard week of election and political debates that make my head spin, and see my entire fellow Suns glued to the holoset in our common area. I claim the last chair and watch as the election results tabulate.

“Amidala is going to win, she _has_ to.”

“Your head’s up in space, Kera, Eirtani comes from a long line of galactic legislators.”

“That doesn’t mean she’ll be a good Queen.”

“What makes you think Amidala will be any better?”

I plaster my hand to my face and drag it downwards. I can’t wait for this election to be over with, if only to end the constant bickering on my floor. It’s impossible to log into our student social platform without seeing some sort of vicious argument.

“Shush, you two! They’re about to announce the winner.”

“No they’re not. It will take hours before they factor in the votes from the mountain regions. It takes them a full sun rotation to send anything over.”

“I resent that remark,” comments Rabelle, who is from the mountain regions and happens to be very proud of them.

“Don’t get me started on the Kaadarians, they’re too busy sleeping on the beach.” She smiles at my attempt at humor, considering how many times I’d ranted about those very stereotypes.

The eldest in our dorm, Ruwi (Vella was offered an amazing science scholarship at Theed University a few years back. Part of me still wonders if she sliced the scholarship database.) hands me a bag of chocolate covered caf beans and whispers: “Take these, it’s going to be a long night.”

I thank her and eat the caf beans slowly, knowing I could polish off a bag in one sitting if I’m not careful. This kind of snack mixed with my fifteen-and-a-half-year-old energy levels can be chaotic at best.

My datapad blinks rapidly with messages from Sachra, Halleth, Rabelle, Mom and Dad, and Jerek. Each provides an interesting perspective on the election as it goes on. I may or may not have started a group link, just to see their personalities mix:

_Halleth: Is it over yet? I have a report on biochemical reactions within houseplants due in the morning._

_Jerek: Stars, Averna. You didn’t say your sister’s a genius, too._

**_Me: I can never hope to live up to her levels of intellect._ **

_Halleth: Are you that boy Sabina mentioned?_

_Jerek: Ohhhh… Sabina talks about me, huh?_

_Halleth: The one who got sick on an airbus after visiting the plasma refinery in Theed?_

_Jerek:……………….._

_Mom: Sabina, why did you start a group link? You know how I feel about those. Your father won’t even respond beyond sending short holovids on loop._

_Dad: *attachment of Kowakian monkey-lizards dressed in Senatorial robes*_

**_Me: *laughed at attachment of Kowakian monkey-lizards dressed in Senatorial robes*_ **

_Dad: I have no idea what you are talking about._

_Mom: I rest my case._

_Sachra: I think I like your family, Silly Sabina. You should bring them to the next training symposium._

_Dad: *attachment of group of Ithorians, blinking rapidly*_

_Jerek: Haha, Silly Sabina. I forgot about that nickname for a moment. Thanks for reminding me, Sachra. You’re not so bad, for being a Moon._

_Sachra: Don’t insult my dorm house, moon jockey._

**_Me: Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all…_ **

_Rabelle: Why did you include me in this? I’m in the same room as you._

Hours later, somewhere around 0300 GST, I am shaken awake by a hand on my shoulder. Rubbing my eyes in an attempt to clear the grit, my vision eventually focuses on the holoset in front of me. The filming droids capture areas all over Naboo as they celebrate the election of Queen Amidala.

All the girls in my dorm begin to talk animatedly, some waving their hands in excitement. I look to Rabelle, who has her hand over her mouth, eyes wide and unblinking.

The Queen’s face fills the holoscreen. Padmé, whom I have yet to meet but feel as if she’s a long lost friend, is already dressed in full regalia. Her makeup is flawless. Her face looks serene. Underneath it all, however, I know she has to be excited beyond belief.

Rabelle, Sachra, and I had taken up a game of saying elaborately positive things about our future careers as Royal Handmaidens. It isn’t long before Rabelle lets her hand slip, revealing a blinding smile and saying: “She’s going to be a wonderful Queen to serve. I bet she doesn’t like the Nova Sundari-style hairdo.”

“Stars, I hope not.”

* * *

 

The most nerve wracking experience I’ve had was my entrance exams into the Academy. Far worse than any of the training, examinations, assignments, and research projects I’ve undertaken to date.

Being here is so much _worse._

We received the royal summons to the Palace this morning. Rabelle and I have hardly spoken two words out of anxiety.

Queen Amidala has chosen, with the recommendation of newly promoted Captain Panaka, the girls who have applied for Royal Handmaidenship. There are others like Rabelle, Sachra, and I who have participated in the Youth Security Training Program in hopes of having a better chance of acceptance but I see other girls in the group who have come from all over Naboo.

Even Eirtani, after suffering a defeat in the recent election, is here to my left; looking regal, poised, and altogether unaffected. Rabelle, to her left, keeps shifting on her feet. Sachra, on my right, has her brightest smile on.

I, on the other hand, probably look like I swallowed sour blue milk.

“Trainees and applicants, your credentials and accomplishments have spoken well of your intelligence, ability, and talent.” Amidala’s royal accent sounds more intimidating in person, even with the knowledge that Padmé lies beneath the façade. “This is a testament to your diligence and hard work. You are to be commended.”

I’m going to be sick, like Jerek on the airbus.

“I will call out the names of those who will primarily serve in the Royal Palace first.”

My heartbeat quickens at the thought of being a Palace Handmaiden. To live in the place I’ve longed for even before I was reborn… it’s almost overwhelming. I don’t care if I likely don’t stand a chance as a Lead Handmaiden; especially if Panaka has passed on his stellar opinion of me to Amidala. Just the option of being close to history in the making will be plenty for me.

The Queen announces eight names and my stomach sinks further and further as mine isn’t called. I’m not a Palace Handmaiden. My chances of working here are shot to space dust.

The eight girls who have been chosen are grouped together on the other side of the room with an austere looking woman in modest, classically draped robes. I assume she is the one who will be administrating their work.

It hits me that Rabelle and Sachra haven’t been chosen either. A quick glance to my right shows that Sachra’s smile has completely faded.

Surely she’ll pick one of us after all of our hard work!

“The Lead Handmaidens are expected to not only fulfill their responsibilities to me, but to assist the Palace Handmaidens should the occasion arise. Those who are chosen have demonstrated an array of capabilities that prove they will perform their duties admirably.” Queen Amidala takes a moment to meet each and every one of our gazes before continuing. I straighten my posture when her eyes narrow ever-so-slightly in my direction.

“Yanil Sarma,” the smallest and youngest looking of our group steps forward. I hear Rabelle gulp from beside Eirtani. The girl in between us looks less composed and far more nervous than before.

“Rabelle Makia.” I send my happiest smile in her direction even as she moves to stand beside Yanil. Her hand is over her mouth in shock.

“Sabina Averna.” My mouth falls open before I can stop it. I made it! I really made it! Stars above, I’m a kriffing Lead Handmaiden! Take that Panaka!

Oh… he’s nodding in agreement. Maybe he doesn’t hate me after all?

I join Rabelle and Yanil, hoping and praying for Sachra’s name to be spoken next. I try not to slump when Queen Amidala calls out: “Eirtani Wendin.”

There are six girls remaining, each of them in various states of blushing in anger, or mouths quivering from holding in their tears. Sachra, that brave, brave girl, continues to hold her head high despite the redness traveling down her neck. There’s only one spot left…

Come on Sachra, no one deserves this more than you.

“Sachra Saynel.”

Rabelle and I breathe a huge sigh of relief as Sachra steps forward. Part of me is still in a state of utter disbelief, not only had I been chosen as a Lead, so had two of my close friends. I’m not certain how this is possible but I am not going to complain at all.

The guards escort the five remaining hopefuls out of the chamber and my heart breaks for their sadness. I can only hope they will find something that will bring them joy.

Thirteen Handmaidens, an Administrator, a Captain, and a Queen are all that remain. The tension that permeated the room begins to lift as light filters through the ornate, transparisteel windows. When I look towards the Queen I see the slightest lift in her mouth, as if she knows something we don’t.

“Handmaidens, now that you have been chosen, you will begin your training regiment,” _More training!?_ “As well as prepare for the Inaugural Ceremony next week.” Captain Panaka gives each of us a new datapad, datalocked to either our DNA or personal codes. “I expect your behavior and service will be of the highest caliber.” I see that glare in my direction, Panaka, I see it!

“It is also expected of Royal Handmaidens to accept a new name, in honor of the Queen herself and for protection of those you are personally connected to. Should you choose to revert back to your given name after your service is concluded, there will be no consequences.”

We then, unfortunately, go through a long, arduous process of selecting our monikers. No wonder my parents waited until after I was born to name me, this is somewhat ridiculous.

Instantly, a thought occurs to me and I want to kick myself at not realizing this before. All of Padmé’s Handmaidens had names that rhymed with hers. Rabelle, shortened, is _Rabé._ Sachra can be changed to Saché. Mine can be… oh kriff. This only took me _fifteen and a half years_ to figure out.

“Your Highness,” I speak up, cutting the discussion off somewhat abruptly. “I apologize for the interruption, but what if we have a matching vowel?”

“Which one would you suggest, Handmaiden?” The Queen replies, her tone offering no inflection to suggest what she’s thinking. I have a feeling that’s going to be somewhat annoying.

“Well, the funny thing is, Your Highness, it seems to be popular amongst our generation to have names that end with, ‘é,’” I ignore the incredulous looks Rabelle and Sachra are sending towards me.  So what if I’m making this all up? “If we shorten our names it can be… “ I widen my eyes in Rabelle’s direction, silently urging her to help me out.

Also, I don’t want to be responsible for renaming my friend.

“Rabé,” she finally blurts out. “That’s somewhat close to my original name, if you find that acceptable, My Queen.”

Sachra, bless her, catches on quickly as she states a firm: “Saché. I never liked my birth name anyways.”

Yanil clears her throat and straightens to her full height ─ an adorable sight, really. “Yané, I will choose Yané.”

Eirtani is contemplative, her brow furrowed. I hope I haven’t offended her by speaking about her potential new name without asking her opinion, or anyone else’s for that matter. “As it were, Your Highness, Eirtani is a name that has been passed down from generation to generation. I’d like to see what the name, Eirtaé, will bring about.”

All eyes turn to me and in that moment, the path I struggled to find becomes perfectly clear.

“Sabé. I think that name has a nice ring to it.”

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the names begin... (I couldn't resist the pun.) Sabé finally has an idea of what she needs to do. Let's hope everything turns out well for her. 
> 
> Thank you to those who've left kudos and commented! It always makes my day. We'll be getting to the events of, 'The Phantom Menace,' soon ─ and a completely natural, not-at-all-awkward meeting between Sabé and a certain person. (Yes, I know you immediately thought about Jar-Jar and not a Jedi who shall remain nameless.)


	3. Training Debacles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have exciting news! My amazing, spectacular, and all-around angel of a BFF, julesley, has agreed to be my beta writer. Not only will she help me with my punctuation, (Thanks for that.) and my accidental slips of innuendo, (Again, thanks for that.) she also will keep me accountable. (Have I mentioned I'm thankful for you, julesley?) She suggested a character list, which is as follows: 
> 
> Sabina/Sabé - Main character  
> Rabelle/Rabé - Fellow Lead Handmaiden  
> Sachra/Saché - Fellow Lead Handmaiden  
> Eirtani/Eirtaé - Fellow Lead Handmaiden  
> Yanil/Yané - Fellow Lead Handmaiden  
> Captain Panaka - Captain of Royal Naboo Security Force  
> Padmé/Queen Amidala - Queen of Naboo  
> Administrator Sarin - Administrator of Palace Handmaidens  
> Halleth - Sabé's younger sister  
> Jerek - schoolmate and friend of Sabé, Rabé, and Saché  
> Senator Palpatine/Darth Sidious - Senator for Naboo/Chommell sector, Sith Lord in disguise  
> Hego Damask II/Darth Plagueis - Head of Damask Holdings, Darth Sidious' Sith Master  
> Mali Nightbreak - Naboo holojournalist  
> King Veruna - monarch of Naboo preceding Queen Amidala  
> Captain Magneta - Captain of Royal Naboo Security Force preceding Captain Panaka

I never realized that the most difficult part about being a Royal Handmaiden would be remembering new names.

For example, we’ve all officially been in our new positions for all of five hours and my flubbing has sounded something like this:

“Sachrrrrr─Saché, will you please pass my datapad to me?”

“Yanil─ _YANÉ,_ I mean, Yané! Have you seen the library yet? It’s amazing!”

“Rabelle─oh, don’t give me that look, I’ve known you for seven kriffing years and I can’t exactly break that habit in two hours─the Queen asked for your assistance in selecting an inaugural outfit.”

And, my personal favorite thus far:

“Eirtani! _Eirtani!_ Eir─TAÉ. Eirtaé. That’s your name. Eiiiirtaé. It’s a lovely name! Have I ever mentioned that? I’m… going to go now.”

After I walked away as quickly as possible, I noticed I never relayed the message that Captain Typho wished to speak with her. It took me another thirty minutes to find her again. The girl moves as quickly as a Muun opening an investment account.

Not only does this new identity clause affect our first names, it’s highly recommended (read: demanded) that our surnames change as well. I’ve gone from Sabina Averna, to Sabé Vena. It’s  a… strange feeling.

Another unexpected scenario within Royal Handmaidenship is the realization that your fellow Handmaidens all resemble each other. It straddles the line of both cool and unsettling.

If we’re dressed without our concealing hoods our differences would be fairly obvious; Rabé, for example, has fuller lips and eyebrows than the rest of us. Saché has freckles and a dimple in her left cheek. Yané, who is as tall as us despite being only eleven, has a snub nose. I inherited my dad’s defined chin. Eirtaé is the one who stands out the most with her blonde hair and bright, blue eyes amongst the rest of our dark haired, dark-eyed features.

However, in a case of outfitting more deceptive than a Jedi mind-trick, once we have our hoods up it’s a challenge to tell us apart. We’re practically clones.

Hmm… that gives, “Attack of the Clones,” a whole new meaning. It’s a true shame that I’m the only one who will understand that reference.

Once the Queen departed our initial meeting, Captain Typho and Administrator Sarin took it upon themselves to delegate our first-day responsibilities; listening to the latter barking out orders to the Palace Handmaidens made me eternally grateful that I’d been chosen for a different position.

The woman is, quite frankly, intimidating. (It doesn’t help that she has to be pushing six feet tall height-wise.) I suspect that I’ll be hearing her bellowing the words, “CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” in the very near future.

Captain Panaka, in what I firmly believe is retaliation for my RNSF training days, has made sure I will have little to no opportunity to be still. His words─accompanied by a vindicated gleam in his eye, I’ll have you know!─were: “Handmaiden Sabé, as your permanent responsibilities are being considered, for now your primary task will be to relay correspondence for the Queen and myself.”

In my head, however, it translated to: “You get to be a glorified messenger girl because I’m petty and need a larger hat to accommodate the swelling size of my ego.”

Despite the slight irritation I’ve experienced, it’s given me the freedom to explore the Palace. The more I discover leads me to the conclusion that this is where I’m meant to be. My favorite area thus far is the library. It’s one of the few areas I’ve seen that has _books_ as opposed to datapads and other devices that contain information. These books are literally eons old and you have to have special clearance to even touch one of them, but there’s something to be said of holding a physical copy in your own two hands.

Perched at the backside of the library is a terrace; covered partially by massive pine trees that make the ones I saw on Earth look like mere saplings. The view from the terrace is, in my opinion, the best you can find as it suspends right over the roaring waterfalls leading into the Basin. I’m not overly fond of heights but I can ignore it in this peaceful area.

It’s here that I am discovered by Yané, carrying quite the collection of datapads in her arms and saying: “Sabé! Did you realize that the security system here has only thirteen firewalls in place? How are we supposed to prevent any sort of malware attacks upon our central server? We’re in danger of every half-witted slicer from here to the three moons being capable of wreaking havoc on the database or stealing classified materials and selling it to an information broker… on _Nar Shaddaa!_ ”

I’d like to point out she says all of this without taking a breath. She has an impressive lung capacity.

“Nar Shaddaa? I thought the Hutts found Naboo too boring,” I joke, which manages to fly right over Yané’s concerned head. She hasn’t had time to adjust to my sense of humor.

“We can’t underestimate the reach of the Hutts, Sabé. Think about the consequences if the likes of Grakkus the Hutt manages to acquire any of the secrets in the Royal Naboo Database! We’d be subjected to all sorts of indecencies like extortion, forced lifting of sanctions against criminals on his bankroll, opening routes for smuggling ─ the possibilities are endless!”

I stare at her for a long moment before deigning to reply. “I have so many questions, Yané, and not enough answers. First: how do you even know about Grakkus the Hutt?”

“This is how I feel every _day._ ” I think I’ve found a kindred spirit in little Yané. She sounds just as paranoid as I am, if not more so. Rabé’s head will spin when she discovers another conspiracy theorist in her midst. “Also, I, unlike many in my field, am not some half-witted slicer.”

Before I can open my mouth my com beeps, cutting off the first of my many questions. “Vena.”

“Handmaiden Sabé,” I fight the urge to cross my eyes at Panaka’s voice. “Your presence, along with the rest of the Lead Handmaidens, has been requested by Queen Amidala. She will be in the northwest conference room. It is your duty to locate your fellow Handmaidens and report at 1600 hours.”

“With all due respect, Captain Panaka,” Yané lifts an eyebrow at my sugary sweet tone. “Why not broadcast your message about the meeting in _fifteen minutes_ over all of our coms? That would be more efficient.” I grab Yané’s arm and drag her towards the main corridor. Even if I manage to track down the rest of our group it will take at least ten minutes to make it from the library to the northwest conference room.

The man is diabolical, I tell you.

“Be that as it may, there is a higher risk of the message being intercepted if broadcasted to multiple receivers. I suggest you move quickly.”

“If that’s the case, then _why_ did you com me─”

“Panaka out.”

The call ends with an obnoxious beep and I let out a string of curses that makes a passing protocol droid correct my manners. (“It is utterly unbecoming of a Royal Handmaiden to speak in such a manner. If Captain Magneta were still here, you would be cited for twenty-one violations of Royal Palace ethics!”) I may or may not state the droid needs his database scrubbed, which likely agitates him more.

Yané looks at me and asks, “What were the last two curses you used? I’ve never heard them before.”

Oh good grief.

* * *

 

Later… much, much later, we all drag ourselves into our quarters. I glance at the time displayed on the wall above our fireplace and wince. _0200 hours…_

We’ve been working for fourteen hours straight. No wonder we’re all exhausted. I mean, whoa, what a first day; is this what all first days at a new job are like? I could use a delicious Palace meal about now, nothing like a nice full belly to put me to sleep.

Our living quarters are directly beside the Queen’s, which makes it convenient for serving her day-to-day needs while keeping us in close proximity for security purposes. The main room that houses all of our beds and storage lockers is long with a vaulted ceiling. We also share a communal refresher with multiple hydro-showers and an inexplicable lack of counter space underneath the vanity mirrors for thirteen girls to share.

Then again, I’d trade the counter area for a good hydro-shower any day of the week. After you’ve experienced enough sonic showers while in space, or in systems that lack abundant water sources, you learn to appreciate that luxury.

I will admit to taking a longer time in the hydro-shower than necessary, especially with Saché grumbling at me to hurry up so she could have a turn. I re-emerge with skin as red as a Chiss’ eyes and wrapped in a puffy, bright blue robe that Halleth gave me last year as a birthday gift.

“For Force’s sake, is there any water left?” Saché snaps at me as she walks into the hydro-shower and curtly shuts the door. A few moments later as I’m brushing my teeth, I hear her continued grumbling about, “Kriffing bureaucrats,” and, “Obnoxious, backwoods flyboys,” and, my personal favorite: “Can’t even tell their heads from their exhaust ports.”

She’s not at her most pleasant when lacking sleep.

Eirtaé is already in bed with her blankets pulled up to her nose. Her hair is an unruly mess, curling every which way like she’s been shot with Force lightning. She slurs a good night to me before pulling the blanket over her head and remaining that way for the rest of the evening.

Rabé and Yané are down for the count as well:  the former asleep with her datapad in her lap, featuring a paused cosmetics tutorial on the screen, and the latter collapsed face-first on her bed, one arm hanging over the side. Her bedside dresser features a tiny, holocube displaying a picture of her hugging an elderly relative ─ her grandmother, maybe?

I lie on my own bed, staring at the ceiling as I reflect on the day’s events. We managed to arrive at the 1600 meeting with twenty-seven seconds to spare, only to be told by Captain Panaka that we are to be trained off-grounds tomorrow afternoon ─ or, this afternoon, now that I have time to think about it.

With the day ahead of us, and an early rise impending, I should be falling asleep instantly. The fact that I haven’t done so is baffling. I grab my datapad from the dresser drawer and check my messages to see if anything Galaxy-shattering happened while I was at work. Hmm… I still haven’t messaged Halleth back.

“Why are you still awake?” Saché whispers as she flops on the bed to my left. Her previous foul mood appears to have lightened.

“Can’t sleep… how was your day?”

“How was _my_ day? I’ll tell you how my day was. Panaka and Sarin thought that because my dad’s a mechanical engineer I was perfect for the job of escorting the Queen during her tour of the all the hangars. Not only was this the _worst_ idea in the history of worst ideas, I had to listen to the sycophants crowding Her Majesty while she tried to address the pilots to thank them for their continued service. They were making endless condescending remarks to her and the Queen never called them on it! _Then_ , once the official ceremony was over, she decides to walk directly into the crowd of pilots as if there’s no security risk at all. I had to run to catch up to her thanks to Representative Nmari, who has absolutely no spatial awareness whatsoever and a tendency to whistle through his nose when he breathes.”

I hide my smile behind a yawn, picturing a fuming Saché stuck behind a nose-whistling politician is hilarious.

“Once I finally return to Her Majesty’s side, I get stopped by one of the pilots who asks me,” She adopts a slow, deep tone. “’So, are you one of those Handmaiden girls?’ No! I just wear the robe and hood for fun ─ of COURSE I’m a Handmaiden. I know it’s in our behavioral code to remain neutral and expressionless, but Sabé─it was just─I couldn’t─I may like to know about current events and what politicians are up to, but I’m not made to be one myself and I was just so frustrated─I… “ Saché takes her pillow and holds it to her front, resting her chin on the top. “I may have said back to the pilot, ‘No, I’m the Queen’s spice dealer.’”

My jaw drops. If that protocol droid happened to be around his head would’ve exploded. “Saché, you didn’t.”

“The worst part is: the laser brain _believed_ me for all of fifteen seconds. Now, I’m known as, “Snarky Hood,” to the majority of our piloting force.” She huffs irritably, squeezing her pillow so tight I’m surprised a seam hasn’t burst. I bite my lip as I feel a giggle emerging. “Thankfully, the Queen didn’t hear what I said back to the pilot.”

“I’m sor─” I can’t finish my words, snorting loudly into my hand. I grab my pillow and bury my face in it to keep my laughter muted. I go into complete hysterics when Saché punches my arm.

“Stuff it, Sabé! It’s not that funny!”

I remove the pillow, revealing my watering eyes and rosy face. “ _You said you were the Queen’s spice dealer.”_ My voice ends in a squeak which prompts another laughing fit. When I open my eyes, I see Saché’s lips twitch. “You’re Sassy Hood!”

“It’s Snarky─” Her resolve crumbles as she buries her laughter in her pillow as well. I cannot tell you how long our hysterics continue, as it’s all a haze of quiet (read: too loud) laughter, oxygen deprivation, and burning muscles in my abdomen. My laughter cuts short when a pillow whacks the back of my head. I turn to see Eirtaé towering behind me.

She seems so much taller from this angle.

“If you two are _quite_ finished, we have a full day ahead of us and I will _not_ be held responsible if none of us are able to fulfill our duties thanks to sleep deprivation!”

We both nod in response, which satisfies her enough as she stomps back to bed and pulls the blanket over her head once more. Saché and I take this as our cue to bid each other good night and finally calm down for the morning.

As I drift off to sleep, I hear Yané mumble in her sleep: “No… not the noodles.”

* * *

 

**From SVRHM@RNSF to meangreenmachine@averna 0215 GST Subject: [Encoded24178] Waaaaaaassssuuuuup**

_“Sorry I’m just getting back to you. It’s been a rather insane twenty-six hours. You’ll be pleased to know that I got the job. You’ll be even more pleased to know that I’m about to have my butt handed to me in a training session because of it. No, I can’t give any more detail than that beyond the robe you gave me for my birthday has been a hit amongst my coworkers… once they squint both eyes, tilt their head to the left and stand on one foot._

_Is Jerek still messaging you? Do I need to have the older sister talk with him? (Who are we kidding? You can put the fear of retaliation in him far better than I could. You have an impressive, yet terrifying gift.)_

_Give my love to our parental units. I miss you all._

_XOXO SV, your favorite sister._

_P.S. Really, Halleth? “Meangreenmachine?”_

**From meangreenmachine@averna to SVRHM@RNSF 1107 GST Subject: RE: [Encoded24718] Waaaaaaassssuuuuup**

_“Congrats. I’m sure you’ll make an amazing… whatever-your-official-title-is. (I do actually mean that. I can be nice once in a while, you know.) If you’re about to get your butt kicked, you probably deserve it. (I do actually mean this, too.)_

_He’s messaged me every day since the Election. Do you know how many puns he’s sent me about plants? Thirty-two. THIRTY-TWO. I blame you for this. (We’re meeting up when we come into town for the Festival of Light. I haven’t broken the news to Dad yet and it is NOT a date. You hear me?)_

_I’ve passed on your message of love to the parental units and they extend an excessive amount of love back to you. Be careful in your new job, okay?_

_XOXO HA, your favorite retaliations dealer_

_P.S. I’ll give you three guesses as to who came up with my user ID_

**From SVRHM@RNSF to meangreenmachine@averna 1109 GST Subject: RE: [Encoded24718] Waaaaaaassssuuuuup**

_(That’s a lot of parentheses.) (It’s so a date.) (Hahahahahahahahaha)_

_Wear the blue dress for your DATE. It drives the boys wild._

_XOXO SV, the unquestionable expert on love and relationships_

_P.S. Halleth’s got a daaaaate, Halleth’s got a daaaaate._

**From meangreenmachine@averna to SVRHM@RNSF 1113 GST Subject: RE: [Encoded24718] Waaaaaaassssuuuuup**

_Just you wait. Once you like someone I’m going to gloat._

_GLOAT._

_XOXO HA, unfortunate relative to delusional older sibling_

_P.S. You sound like a spice junkie._

_P.P.S. I know I’m not supposed to ask but what’s with the new initials and handle?_

\- Message thread between Royal Handmaiden Sabé Vena and civilian contact Halleth Averna

* * *

 

When we left the Palace to travel to our unnamed training site I didn’t give it much thought. What strikes me as odd, once we land and I take in the bustling green fields, rocky cliff faces, and collection of waterfalls, was the guest dressed in training robes standing with Panaka.

What in space was Padmé doing here?

“Handmaidens,” Panaka begins, gesturing to our Queen disguised as, well, herself. Not that any of us are supposed to know this, which means I get to test my acting skills once again. “We have a last-minute addition to the Lead Handmaiden roster. This is Padmé. She will begin her training with you today.”

I hear the others whisper to each other:

“Another Lead Handmaiden?”

“Did she have to change her name, too? She has beautiful hair.”

“Great, now we’ll have even _less_ counter space in the ‘fresher.”

“This seems rather convenient. I don’t remember seeing anything in our system about a newcomer.”

Panaka and Padmé, who seems almost nervous, lead us to the compound located in the far south end of the training field. My shoulders sink when I recognize the structure being built by maintenance droids.

Obstacle courses were fun in the Academy. In Panaka’s hands, they’re probably hellscapes.

While we wait for the course to be completed, we are taken inside the compound where a small armory awaits inside. In the Youth Security Training Program, Rabé, Saché, and I had opportunity to do a small amount of target practice and I was, surprisingly, an excellent shot.

This helped supplement my lackluster hairdressing scores.

“As Lead Handmaidens, you will be required to conceal carry various blasters, knives, and/or other weapons to protect Queen Amidala from potential threats. Your weapons must never be discovered unless in the event of an emergency.”

“What about vibroblades?” I ask, surprising everyone in the room, except for the training droid on it’s charging station in the front. Panaka regards me with something similar to respect, almost like the first time I met him.

“While vibroblades are an excellent weapon in melee combat, they are difficult to conceal and less advantageous against blaster fire.”

“Yes, but if we are able to implement them somehow, we should invest in ones layered with cortosis ore. A direct hit from it can sputter a lightsaber blade.” The surprise I sensed before morphs into sheer disbelief, though Yané nods her head in agreement.

“It’s true, Captain Panaka. I’ve seen it in my research.” I look at her and smile. I wonder which database she sliced into to get that sort of information.

From my understanding, and memories from reading the novel about Darth Plagueis, the Sith Lord bought mining rights on the planet Bal’demnic in an attempt to keep the knowledge of the cortosis mine away from the Jedi Council. It is legally required through Republic law that any cortosis mines be reported to the Council and the defensive properties of cortosis is not common public knowledge to this day.

“Are you concerned we’ll be facing Jedi, Handmaiden?” Panaka asks, quickly losing the respect he had in his tone earlier.

No, just Darth Maul in the very near future ─ though in the first movie Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi are the only ones who directly face him; and, Count Dooku, and Ventress, and Darth Sidious… and, possibly Darth Vader if the future can’t be changed. I think I’m forgetting others as well.

Kriff… why did I want to count our future enemies again?

“It is always better to prepare for any and every eventuality.” I finally respond. “I doubt anyone will sue us for having a contingency plan, right?” I look to Padmé, who is standing at my right side.

“I─no, I wouldn’t think so.”

“See? Padmé has shown she’s an excellent judge of character by concurring with my previously said statement. Vibroblades are in!” I hear someone, probably Rabé or Saché, cover up their laugh with a cough.

It’s always interesting to see a grown man fighting an eye roll. “We will discuss vibroblades later.” He pauses for a moment, looking back and forth between Padmé and me as if he’s never seen us before. By the time it starts to become uncomfortable, he turns towards the blaster rack. “For this exercise, you will use an ELG-3A type blaster pistol.”

We move forward, arming ourselves properly, checking the power packs, and ensuring the barrels were clean before stepping outside. Panaka also ordered us to carry ascension guns which meant I’d be facing the possibility of tall heights.

How exciting for me.

“How did you know that about cortosis?” Padmé asks as we watch Eirtaé run through the course, while she is harried by the now activated, spherical training droid. I am impressed by her ability to run up a wall until she can grip the edge with her hands. Why can’t I do that?

Oh wait… “I, if you haven’t heard already, have a slight tendency to be labeled as a conspiracy theorist.” Which still seems like a harsh term, I’m more of a professional worrier, “And when I heard a rumor about an ore that can stall a lightsaber, I thought it might be useful knowledge one day.”

It’s sort of the truth… right?

“Well, I hope your theories prove to be helpful to you in the future.” I grin at her answer ─ always the diplomat, that one.

“Thanks, but I hope I won’t have to use any of my theories. It would be much less stressful for me.”

Her politician’s mask gives away as she finally smiles back at me. “I suppose you’re right.”

We both quiet down as Yané completes the course next, showing her skills with dodging and swiftness on her feet. I can see now how she and Eirtaé passed the physical inspection before being chosen as Handmaidens. Saché nudges Rabé in the side when Panaka calls her up for her turn.

“You’ve got this, Rabé. Just picture that droid as the final exams we had to take back at the Academy.”

“That’s… surprisingly helpful?”

Padmé brightens at the subject matter, turning towards Saché and me. “You attended the Academy, too?”

“Yeah,” Saché responds, placing her hands on her lower back and twisting from side to side. “Rabé, Silly Sabé, and I all attended.”

_“For Force’s sake, can we please drop, ‘Silly Sabé!?”_

“When did you attend and which house were you? I was placed in Stars.”

“Huh, I suppose that’s how we never came across you. I’m a Moon, Sabé and Rabé are Suns.” She holds her hand up, extending her index finger. “Say! Have you ever noticed how closely your names rhyme?”

“All of our names rhyme, Saché.” I deadpan. “We had classes with quite a few Stars, why did our paths never cross, Padmé?”

“I graduated when I was eight.” She says this so simply and looks uncomfortable when Saché and I gape at her. “Is something the matter?”

“You _graduated_ at eight? Stars, I didn’t even get in until I was eight! You must be some sort of genius.”

Padmé has the decency to look bashful for a moment before saying: “That’s very kind of you.”

Our get-to-know-you conversation is cut short by Rabé’s yelp from the middle of the obstacle course. The training droid continually charges at her from above, pinning her behind one of the scaling walls. She reaches around the corner and fires, the bolt bursting an angry red before hitting the training droid in the center of its front plating.

This _should_ have overloaded the droid’s operating system and caused an automatic shutdown for repairs, but it _didn’t_. If anything, the droid resumes its assault with vengeance.

“Rabé!” I call out as the droid rams the scaling wall she is hiding behind. Yané darts towards the compound, Eirtaé in tow, while Saché and Panaka focus on getting the droid’s attention with their own blasters. The course is quickly riddled with plasma burns as the droid fires back. Padmé and I duck beneath the crossfire and gesture for Rabé to jump towards us.

She moves in our direction, and then backtracks as the droid swivels on her to fire another round of blaster bolts. I aim at it with my blaster. The bolt hits it dead-center like before.

The droid doesn’t stop.

“Rabé, get out of there!” Padmé shouts, firing her own blaster that catches the left side of the droid.

Rabé darts from behind the wall and breaks for the nearest waterfall ─ drawing the droid’s attention once again. It pursues her. I swear once when one of its bolts grazes her arm. Padmé and I follow closely behind, riddling the back of the droid with more plasma burns.

“Why won’t the kriffing thing shut down!?”

“I don’t know!”

I curse vehemently as Rabé jumps downwards and through the waterfall. If the droid had not have seen her do this, it would be a perfect hiding spot. As it was, the droid merely hovered in front of the streaming water, near the small protrusion of rock she is standing on.

A tree rooted at the top of the cliff gives me an idea. I grab my ascension gun to aim it towards one of the thickest looking branches. The cable wraps around it. “If I swing from this perch, I can knock the droid away. Cover me!”

“No, you’re a better shot than I am! Let me do it!”

I want to argue the fact that she is the Queen and really shouldn’t be doing any of this, but one of my best friends is in danger. After a seconds hesitation, I pass her the ascension gun.

“Hold on tight, it’ll feel like it’s jerking your arm out of the socket. I’ll cover you!”

Padmé, yet another brave girl I am privileged to know, runs off the cliff and swings towards the training droid as its blasters burn red to fire. The combined force of her swing and double-legged kick sends it spinning away from the waterfall. Padmé veers back into the waterfall. I fire once, twice. Each bolt makes contact.

The droid staggers, electrical sparks flying from its circular frame. The optic lens on the front changes from offensive red to blue standby. I watch in amazement as it floats upwards and away from the waterfall. Panaka and Saché join me at the incline.

“Where are Padmé and Rabé?” Panaka barks out. “Yané and Eirtaé managed to deactivate the droid from the compound.”

“They’re behind the waterfall.” They both breathe a sigh of relief. Within seconds, two cables connect with the tree. Rabé and Padmé ascend the cliff shortly thereafter.

Yané and Eirtaé return with a medkit in hand. I should’ve thought to com them, poor Rabé and Padmé are soaked to the skin and shivering.

“What happened?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, thanks to all of you.” Rabé winces as Yané applies bacta directly to the wound on her arm. “A little more gently, if you _please_.”

“Sorry! I normally work with data, not sentient life.”

“Guys, you missed it!” Saché makes a swooping motion with her arms. “Sabé kept nailing the droid over and over again and it wouldn’t stop. Then she fired a kriffing cable at the tree and Padmé swooped down, kicking the droid into the next star system!”

“That might be a slight exaggeration,” Padmé smiles, not at all concerned with the glare Panaka is giving her. I knew I liked this girl for a reason. “Everyone was extremely brave.”

“Some foolishly so,” Panaka states through gritted teeth, “If anything had happened─”

“It does not matter, because nothing happened.” Padmé’s tone switches immediately, sounding sharp, clear, and authoritative. Rather like, say, a Queen? It causes an awkward halt in the flow of conversation. “I haven’t been completely honest with all of you.”

Hmm, should I go with the confused approach?  Bursts of anger aren’t typical for my personality, unless I’m hungry or dealing with petty Captains, so I’ll avoid that route. Amusement! That’s how I’ll handle this, ‘surprise.’

It’s weird to be me.

“All of you were chosen to be Lead Handmaidens because of your bravery and skill. Today has solidified that impression you all made upon me.” Padmé helps a stunned Rabé to her feet, the latter staring at her as if she’d grown a second head. “My court name is Amidala, a protection for my loved ones like you have employed recently. I apologize for the deception until now. It was _suggested_ that I participate in training with you until an appropriate time to reveal my identity was decided upon.”

Ooo, if she keeps going like this Panaka will have steam coming out of his ears. My stomach sinks when I realize her blatant disregard for his orders could be problematic for my job as her Handmaiden. I simply can’t win.

“My true name is Padmé Naberrie. It is nice to meet each and every one of you.”

Eirtaé is the first to recover from her shock, shaking her head until curls escape from her previously immaculate bun. She smoothes the errant hairs down absentmindedly as she laughs: “Well, Your Highness, I have no doubts that you will make an amazing Queen if you manage more surprises like this. I am honored to be your Handmaiden.”

Saché, whose neck is already red from frustration, points her index finger accusingly: “You! You─how─you just became _so_ much cooler.” Padmé’s eyebrows shoot upwards at her choice of phrase. It takes a while to understand Saché’s mannerisms. “I am glad to serve you, Queen Amidala.”

Yané, of course, blinks at Padmé owlishly. “How did I miss that in my research!? You’re registered as Amidala every─” she clears her throat, “I mean to say, Your Highness, that I usually read data better than people. I will do my utmost best to continue protecting you.”

Rabé is still in a state of awe, so I decide to speak up next: “Does this mean I have to stop saying, ‘kriff?’”

“We can negotiate the terms,” Padmé’s grin is quick. “Silly Sabé.”

“ _Not you, too!”_

Rabé, now having recovered herself enough to speak, does something completely unexpected by way of throwing her uninjured arm around Padmé in a hug. “Thank you, Your Majesty, for your bravery in saving my life. I promise your makeup will be flawless and the words, ‘humidity,’ and, ‘frizz,’ will never darken your doorway.”

That’s practically a life-bond in Rabé speech.

“As heartwarming as this is,” Panaka’s sarcasm cuts like a knife. “It is our duty to protect you, Your Highness, and stunts like this make our jobs extremely difficult.”

“I am aware of this, Captain Panaka, and I greatly appreciate your diligence.” I share a look with the rest of the Handmaidens. We’ve all started to notice a slight reckless streak in our monarch. “We will all join together to ensure a working, efficient plan that will assuage your concerns over my protection.”

Judging by Panaka’s scowl, he’s not at all convinced by her answer. “I have an idea that I will present to all of you in the morning. For now, we must head back to the Palace. This training session is over.”

As we all pile in the airbus, Panaka at the front, Padmé in the center, us handmaidens in formation around her, she comes to a halt. Taking a moment to smile at each of us, Padmé asks us a simple, yet crucial question: “When it is just us, please call me Padmé. I would like for us to be friends not just Queen and Handmaidens.”

I smile back at her. “It would be our pleasure, Padmé.”

As the airbus transports us back, and our conversations start overlapping once more, I notice Panaka scrutinizing Padmé and I again.

I have a bad feeling about this.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... who has any ideas as to what Panaka is planning? Sabé has her work cut out for her. Fun fact: the plot of the training sessions is loosely based off a summary I found on wookiepedia. I haven't read the original story so there have been liberties taken. (But its fanfiction, so are we surprised?) 
> 
> Thank you all for your kudos and comments! You always make my day. Next up: an inauguration, imitations, and invasions. (Oh my.)


	4. Six Gates of Defense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the thanks to my amazing BFF and editor for catching my errors and informing me I don't over-italicize. You're the best.

It’s amazing how stressful experiences can bring people together.

After our disastrous-yet-somehow-amazing training session ended we flew back to Theed and resumed our duties at the Palace. This day, unlike the one before, proved to be quite different. As opposed to all the Lead Handmaidens running around the grounds to perform separate tasks, Padmé insisted on keeping the six of us together, including herself.

We listened quietly while she conducted meetings with various legislators. We offered our opinions and advice, such as it was, whenever she asked. (Which was surprisingly often…) We shared stories and laughter that evening over dinner; after I suggested we order food to be delivered to the Queen’s quarters.

Padmé learned quickly that my judgment concerning food is not to be questioned.

When we finally went to bed ─ at a much more reasonable hour than the previous evening ─ I felt a closer connection with the girls I work with, even Rabé and Saché whom I’ve known for years. Maybe this is true in any universe; stick a group of girls together, feed them excessive amounts of food, let them share stories and giggle about boys and they’ll be irrevocably bonded.

I fell asleep feeling lighter than I have in a long time.

When I arise the next morning, however, a certain Captain decides to throw a metaphorical hydrospanner in the works. I awake to the sound of my com blaring and the pained groans of my roommates as I blindly search for it on my dresser. ( _“Make it stop, Sabé.”_ )

“Vena,” I answer mid-yawn. What time is it?

“Handmaiden Sabé,” Of c _ourse_ it’s Panaka at kriffing 0500. He’d be the one to wake me up at the butt crack of dawn. “I have a matter of great importance to discuss with all Lead Handmaidens. The Queen has been informed and will be in attendance. Our meeting will begin at 0700 hours sharp.”

Hmm, at least he’s giving me more than fifteen minutes notice this time around. I may even have time to snag a biscuit from the kitchens beforehand!

“We will be there; Vena out.”

I allow myself a few more minutes of comfort before forcing myself out of bed. Eirtaé, like last night, is buried underneath her covers. The only identifying marker that she is the one beneath all the layers is a puff of curls sticking out from the very top of the blankets.

Even at her most tired, Eirtaé is the least likely to kill me if I wake her up early. The rest of the girls on the other hand have much deeper-rooted mean streaks. This is why I lightly poke the foot-shaped lump at the bottom of the bed. “Eirtaé… “

Poke. Poke. Poke.

“Eiiiiiiirtaé.”

The mass of blankets shift until bleary eyes reveal themselves to me. Her mouth opens wide in a yawn. “Sabé? What’s wrong?”

“Panaka has called for a meeting at 0700. Can you wake everyone else up in half an hour? I’ll get ready and attend to the Queen first.”

She nods and disappears beneath the covers again. Taking this as a positive sign, I ready myself as quickly as possible before running to the kitchens and picking up breakfast for Padmé and myself, naturally. Thankfully, the kitchens are not too far of a walk from our living arrangements.

Yes, the kitchen staff already recognizes me. They also know to save biscuits and shuura fruit jam for me. It’s about life’s simple joys really.

Padmé, unsurprisingly, is awake when I enter her quarters. The only source of light, before I tap the controls by the door, is the datapad she holds in her hand. She winces when the overhead lighting fills the room. “Goodness, Sabé. Will you warn a girl from now on?”

“Good morning to you too, Your Royal Perkiness.” I set her breakfast tray on her lap and effectively remove her datapad from her grasp. “All matters of state can wait until you’ve eaten at least three bites.”

“But Governor Bibble left an important message about the state of Theed’s traffic contr─” She covers her eyes at my warning look. I fling the curtains open wide to allow natural light inside the chamber. “It’s simply too early for this.”

“ _Thank you, Sabé,_ ” I mimic her tone, which earns me a glare from a ruffled Queen. “ _I will thoroughly enjoy my breakfast that you have oh-so-kindly delivered. In fact, I am so thrilled by your assistance that I shall give you an immediate raise._ ”

“ _Oh, Your Highness,_ ” she fires back in an admirable imitation of my Kaadarian accent, “ _I wouldn’t dare accept such an offer of generosity. I’d much rather gift it to others I truly admire_ _;_ _such as Captain Panaka, for putting up with my whimsical, fun-loving nature._ ”

“Well, that’s just rude. Are you sure you’re a politician?”

Padmé lips her caf mug and breathes in slowly. “I may not be held accountable for anything I say before my first caf of the day.”

“I must have missed that rule in the Royal Handmaiden handbook.” I walk over to the massive closet on the other side of the room. Her ensemble for the day was painstakingly selected by Rabé the night prior. The conversation managed to last an hour before they ultimately decided on a silver-trimmed, green gown over a voluptuous, white petticoat.

I’ll spare the details of the accessory and hairpiece debate that followed. Suffice it to say, I’ve never had a greater understanding of symbolic colors until now.

“Just out of curiosity,” I ask her as she rises from the bed. A quick glance to my right shows she ate at least half of her breakfast. “Are these hairpieces exceptionally heavy?”

“It… takes time to adjust to them.” She stares at her ensemble and sighs. “I sincerely hope Rabé is right about the comfort of this outfit. We have a full agenda today.”

For a moment, I’m struck once again with the realization of how young she is. At fourteen years old she has been elected as the ruler of a planet, which is a responsibility I cannot even begin to comprehend. It’s one of the reasons I tease her so much, she needs the break to simply be herself.

“Alright, Your Royal Busy-ness. Let’s see if we can get you ready before Rabé comes in.”

Padmé’s smile is full of mischief. “I give her ten minutes.”

Rabé arrives in seven.

* * *

 

Panaka is the genius behind the decoy plan. _Panaka_ is the genius behind the decoy plan. Panaka is the genius behind the _decoy_ plan.

No matter how many times I think about this it never fails to surprise me.

This is why I am now currently dressed in one of Padmé’s outfits while being fitted for one of the hairpieces I questioned her about earlier this morning. Captain Panaka’s meeting consisted of a long discussion about the unnerving physical similarities between Padmé and me.

He also made the comment: “Handmaiden Sabé has also demonstrated a penchant for impersonations, no matter whether it is appropriate or not; which will be a useful skill for the success of this plan.”

I knew he would throw in a dig about my impressions at some point.

“It really is eerie,” Saché comments, pointing between Padmé and me as we stand side-by-side. “Like looking in one of those illusion houses at festivals.”

“Oh, I’ve never liked those ─ or the men and women in paint and wigs that follow you around and insist on hugging you.” We all turn and stare at Eirtaé, who has gone slightly pale. Even if she liked hugs ─ which she has firmly stated that she doesn’t ─ that experience would be traumatizing. “Please don’t ask.”

We honor her wish by changing the subject. “I can search our planetary database for any distant familial links between the two of you.” Yané offers. “It would give me an opportunity to practice.”

“Sabé, please stand still.” I cringe when Rabé jabs a hair pin into the back of my skull. I have a newfound respect for Padmé having to deal with this daily. “I can’t set the hairpiece if you constantly fidget.”

“I wouldn’t fidget so much, Rabé, if you’d stop trying to poke holes in my brain.”

“Padmé, Sabé may look nearly identical to you but you are much more cooperative.”

I huff and cross my arms while Padmé hesitatingly thanks her for the compliment.

Next is the full face of makeup the Queen is typically seen wearing: a white face, identical red dots on each cheek, upper lip painted red while the lower is split with the Scar of Remembrance. Once Rabé’s finished making me up, she steps back and appraises her work. The rest of the Handmaidens pause in their conversation and stare at us until I begin feeling extremely uncomfortable.

“That’s… “ Eirtaé begins.

“… Creepy,” Saché finishes. “Very creepy,”

“Thank you, Rabé, for your excellent work. I would like to speak with Sabé alone for a moment, if you do not mind.”

The other four curtsy in response, quickly filing out of the room until Padmé and I are alone. I would bet a few credits that they have their ears pressed to the door.

“Sabé, how do you feel about this?” I blink a few times. That’s a loaded question if I’ve ever heard one.

“How do _you_ feel about it? I mean, it’s strange, right?” I deepen my voice to imitate her royal accent. “I am here to serve you─no, wait, you wouldn’t say that. How about this: it is my responsibility to govern the great planet of Naboo, not to appease Trade Federation sycophants who possess nothing more than greedy intentions.” I pause. “Was that better?”

“I might not use the word, ‘sycophants,’ but the message is still the same?” She shakes her head. “I am not entirely comfortable with this. You are putting yourself at great risk by disguising yourself as me.”

“With all due respect, it’s my job to protect you. Perhaps the means are different than normal,” I gesture to the hairpiece which is, in fact, quite heavy. “But I will gladly stand in for you if it means your survival.”

“Are you _certain_ about this?” She presses, a note of worry in her voice.

‘No,’ I want to say. I saw _The Phantom Menace_ a number of times. I know that I will be playing the role of the Queen in the near future. I know that the plan works unless my knowledge of said future events changes things. (A worry that has kept me up at night far too many times…) I also know that I’m not supposed to make an appearance in any other films which is something I can’t allow myself to ponder for very long.

“Padmé, I will gladly serve as your decoy when the time calls for it.” I stand up straighter. “You chose me and the others as Handmaidens for a reason. We are brave, Your Highness.”

She regards me silently, an indescribable expression on her face. A moment later she offers a small smile. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

In effort to lighten the mood, I place my finger over my mouth and quietly tiptoe to the door. After waiting a few seconds I smack my hand against the surface and cackle when squeals immediately follow.

I knew they were listening all along.

* * *

 

_“Saché, do you have eyes on the man by the fountain?”_

_“Yes. He hasn’t moved in fifteen minutes ─ too much to drink, I’d say.”_

_“Inform us if that changes.”_

Working security for an Inauguration is not for the fainthearted. It provides a mixture of feelings like: ‘Kriff, this is going to be a long day, isn’t it?’ and, ‘How many people do we _really_ need in the main entrance at one time?’ and lastly, ‘How does the Queen move so fast while wearing three skirts and heels?’

Also, I think my earpiece is too big. I’m going to have to ask for a new one.

If we hadn’t trained so hard this past week, we would have lost Padmé within ten minutes. The advisory crowd nearly broke through our protective formation around her until Eirtaé fixed her most intimidating glare on each one of them. I never knew a girl this soft-spoken could be so frightening.

Unfortunately, she reserved none of these expressions for Senator Palpatine. _He_ is allowed unhindered access to Padmé before the ceremony. The more I see the man’s purposefully friendly expression and hear his amiable tone, the more my skin crawls.

It’s an _icky_ feeling, for lack of better word, to be around a Sith.

Not only does the man have far too much access to Padmé, she seems to be fully intent on listening to everything he has to say. I want to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. However, if I were to do so, Panaka would have me fired quicker than you can say, ‘Good riddance.’

“Queen Amidala,” Palpatine croons to her. I share a look with Rabé from behind him, quickly curling my hands and wiggling my fingers in a creepy manner. She blinks incredulously in response. “Today is a day to celebrate your recent success. I have no doubt that you will make an excellent monarch for our lovely home.”

“Thank you, Senator Palpatine. You are most kind.”

No he’s not. He’s evil and gross and─

“Do not allow any worries over trade dealings and taxation to take away from the joy of this moment. You have well earned it.” He places his hand over his heart. “I will do my utmost best to advise you in any way possible.”

─manipulative and creepy and did I mention evil because if I didn’t, I really need to─

“It is nearly impossible to do so with the Trade Federation breathing down our necks, Senator. Even now their command ship is in our outer orbit.”

─I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.

I cut my angry thoughts short when Palpatine straightens. Kriff, he’s a Force user. What if he’s sensing my less-than-complimentary feelings towards him? What if I’m inadvertently drawing attention to myself?

“They are vile and cowardly, if you do not mind my plain speech.” Of course they are. It’s how they’re so easily manipulated by _you_ ─happy thoughts, Sabé. “If you were to take firm legislative action against them they will be forced to capitulate.”

“I shall consider your advice.” I breathe a sigh of relief. This is Padmé’s favorite phrase to segue into a new subject. The only reason I know this is because she’s used it on all of us a number of times over the past week. “Shall we commence with the ceremony, Senator?”

I wrinkle my nose when Palpatine offers his arm to her. Eirtaé’s warning cough reminds me to keep a neutral expression. “We shall, my Queen.”

In inaugurations past, it is standard custom for the newly elected monarch to travel to the temple in Kaadara and light a torch with the Eternal Flame to symbolize the prosperity of their rule. We had to depart from tradition due to higher tensions caused by the Trade Federation’s proximity and modified our own ceremony here in the heart of Theed.

As we proceed from the Palace entrance, surrounded by cheering crowds on both sides, I watch closely as Padmé approaches the lit brazier at the base of the stairs. Governor Bibble waits for her there with an unlit torch, engraved with ancient Naboo symbols, in his hands. As he passes the torch to her waiting hands, we adjust our stations to form a semicircle behind Padmé. Eirtaé stands in the middle, Saché and I stand on either side of her, while Rabé and Yané stand further forward.

I can’t help but feel a shift in the air as she lowers the torch into the ceremonial flame. The crowd’s cheering becomes a deafening roar as she holds the object in her right hand. The flame sparks, floating into the slightly chilled air as she holds her head high. A filming droid floats nearby, capturing her next words and connecting them to holoscreens around the planet.

“Citizens of Naboo, it is my joy to serve as your Queen. May our days ahead be filled with peace in the midst of any circumstances we may yet face. It is in times of change that the very best parts of our great culture are brought to the surface.” Padmé’s voice is clear and strong, not a hint of uncertainty or wavering. “I will do everything in my power to protect and honor the home we all love.”

I overheard Captain Panaka grumbling a few days ago about a conciliatory invitation that was extended to Nute Gunray of the Trade Federation for the Inaugural ceremony. He declined with an excessive amount of politeness and we all were able to relax somewhat, but I can’t help but think Padmé’s speech is a direct message to the Neimoidian himself. If I’m able to pick up on this I have no doubt he is as well.

Padmé hoists the ceremonial torch high, earning another round of deafening applause. She is resplendent in her red gown, a beacon of hope and bright futures. Our own robes are flame-colored and made of a velvety material to represent the fire she wields. One of the reasons all Handmaidens were present for the ceremony, besides the obvious need for security, is a symbolic facet of Naboo culture.

It is said that there are six gates in place to keep Chaos at bay. To those who lean towards superstition and fairytales, our placement today is in honor of that belief. I’ve never been one to believe in the story but I know that between all five Handmaidens and the Queen, we will not hesitate to defend our home and loved ones; six guardians against evil tidings.

_“How much longer do you think the ceremony will be?”_

_“Why do you ask?”_

_“I left my curling iron on.”_

We’re doomed.

* * *

 

**From meangreenmachine@averna to SVRHM@RNSF 1810 GST Subject: Nice outfit**

_“So, I know I’m not supposed to do this, but when have I ever been one to follow rules? We watched the Inauguration yesterday. I have a bet going with Dad that you were the one standing behind Queen Amidala and to the left. If I’m right, he has to help me transplant my millaflowers this weekend. Do me a favor and let me know I was right._

_When we’re in town for the festival in a few weeks will they make you stay in uniform? Or do I get to actually see your face? Not that I actually WANT to but knowing you, you’ll start using that creepy voice and I will have to deny any relation between us._

_Talk to you soon._

_XOXO HA, winner of all wagers about sisters in disguise._

_P.S. You look shorter on a holoscreen.”_

**From SVRHM@RNSF to meangreenmachine@averna 2157 GST Subject:RE: [Encoded24187] Nice outfit**

_“I can neither confirm nor deny where I was placed. I signed a contract with my **left** hand and know I will be kicked out on my **behind** if I violate it. Good luck with your transplanting. Say hi to Dad for me._

_I take offense to your implication that I would EVER use a creepy voice. I happen to be a beacon of maturity, dear sister, and since I am also your role model and hero, I must always present myself to you in the most well-mannered way possible. I hope you know I take this responsibility very seriously. (It’s hard to type when you’re laughing hysterically, if you’re wondering.)_

_Talk to you soon._

_XOXO SV, paragon of sisterly role-modeling_

_P.S. You’re short whether or not you’re on a holoscreen.”_

\- Message thread between Royal Handmaiden Sabé Vena and civilian contact Halleth Averna

* * *

 

I never knew taking Queen Amidala lessons would be so… intense.

After nearly three months of imitating her voice, mannerisms, posture, and walk I’ve found myself using, ‘Padmé-isms,’ even when I’m not training. The other day I slipped into a court accent when I asked one of the pilots to pass a flimsi message along to Saché (she paid me back in full for this by hiding all of my datapads) and he thought the Queen had come for a surprise inspection until he noticed I was just a Handmaiden.

This was an awkward conversation I’d rather not relive.

Our first trial run, if you can call it that, of me as a decoy went smoothly for the most part. I sat in for Padmé during a lunch meeting with Representative Nmari. I personally think this was a test that she and Saché came up with, only to see if I could keep a straight face in the presence of a nose-whistler.

We also have devised our own set of nonverbal signals in case I am unable to communicate with Padmé directly. Lots of ear tugging, tapping of feet, wiggling of fingers, and wiping of noses have been utilized. Most have been fairly clear to translate, except for the last one when Yané had a cold for a week:

“Yané, what’s wrong?”

“Nothig’s wrong, blasd it! I hab a runny nose.”

“Maybe the nose signal wasn’t a good idea, Eirtaé.”

“I told you I’m no good at coming up with gestures! I can’t even wink!”

All of this training with Padmé concerning, well, herself and Panaka’s strict regimen of exercise and target practice leaves all of us fully exhausted when we make it to our beds. There have been many evenings where I’ve fallen asleep on top of my bed, still in my training uniform. I’ve never worked harder in my life but I love every second of it.

Three weeks before my birthday leads to the culmination of all our hard work. We receive news in the Council room that more Trade Federation control ships have come into orbit around our planet. Padmé imposed heavier taxation on their movements in an effort to dissuade further business with them. Instead of causing them to retreat like Palpatine advised (what a shocker) they responded with a menacing increase in demands on production in our Plasma Refinery.

“They are likely attempting to form a blockade,” Panaka says. “It won’t be long before they make a move to invade.”

“To invade our planet would defy all logical reason. Their attempt at blockading alone is illegal.” Governor Bibble interjects. “We must speak with Senator Palpatine at once and make an appeal to the Senate for an investigation.”

“I have already contacted him. He is having a meeting with Supreme Chancellor Valorum as we speak.” Padmé looks at me from across the room. My stomach sinks.  She and I both know what this means. “We must examine every course of action we can take to prevent hostilities.”

“It may already be too late for that, Your Highness.” Have I ever mentioned how much I appreciate Panaka’s optimism? It’s so comforting in times like this. “Hold on, we’re receiving a message from Senator Palpatine.”

“Put him through.”

A holoprojection appears in the center of the room, revealing Palpatine at a quarter of his normal size. “Queen Amidala, I have spoken with the Supreme Chancellor and urged him to take action; he has contacted the Jedi Council and they are sending representatives to begin negotiations.”

My heart skips a beat. I’ll be able to meet Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi very soon. How kriffing cool is that? Except for, you know, the dangerous situation surrounding us…

“Thank you, Senator, for your quick work. How soon shall they arrive to begin these negotiations?” Again she glances at me, likely to factor in the time it will take for her to change into Handmaiden robes while I am transformed into the Queen.

“They will arrive in less than twenty-four standard hours. Please utilize all caution, Your Highness. These are dark times, indeed.”

“We will. Please keep us apprised of any changes.”

Palpatine’s image flickers away after he bids us farewell. The conversation from before turns into a full blown argument ─ mostly between Panaka and Bibble while I gesture to Eirtaé with three taps on my leg: “ _This isn’t good._ ”

One cough later: _“Affirmative.”_

I look through the window, scrutinizing the clear, blue skies above us. No one would ever suspect the madness hovering around us. The Trade Federation is far more insidious than people give them credit.

After our meeting adjourns, and we escort Padmé back to her room; I pull up my datapad and send a message to Halleth, who is supposedly in Theed for a field trip. As I finish typing, Rabé and Saché flop onto my bed while Eirtaé and Yané sit on the former’s neighboring bed.

“Sabé, are you ready for what might happen if the Trade Federation invades?”

“Of course! How often does a girl get a chance to fool the majority of people around her?” I’m such a liar. “Is anyone else hungry? I’m _starving_.”

All four of them look at each other before bursting into laughter. I cross my arms and wait for them to compose themselves once more. “Only you, Sabé, would be concerned about food after news like this.”

“Do you think I’ll be able to perform while hungry? We might as well have Eirtaé try to hug the Neimoidians into submission.”

She shudders in response. “I hate hugging.”

“ _We know._ ” We reply, earning an eye roll in response.

“Or, if this had happened earlier, Yané could’ve spread her cold germs to them. They’d be too sick to function.” Saché nudges the girl in question with her foot. “Also, they’d probably need shots and that seems like justice to me.”

Yané blinks rapidly. “But Neimoidians have a thicker epidermis and typical hypo-injections wouldn’t work─OH. You’re being facetious again. I caught it this time.”

“Or,” Rabé interjects. “Better yet, we could have Saché mobilize all the pilots with her sweet ways. They’ll gladly jump in to defend her.”

“Hey! I can be sweet when I want to be! I just happen to never desire this whenever I’m around our piloting force.”

“Snarky Hood.”

“ _Shut up.”_

As they continue to bicker back and forth, I catch Eirtaé’s concerned look in my direction. She has an unnerving capability to read people and in the time I’ve had to get to know her, I suspect she knew I distracted everyone on purpose.

Later in the evening, I lie in my bed and stare at the ceiling. Halleth has not responded to my message, Padmé barely ate anything for dinner, and news of the blockade has been announced through our main news network. Worry over the reality of this situation makes my stomach hurt.

It’s one thing to witness these events in a movie. It’s another thing entirely to actually experience it for myself. These people are my friends and family, not hired actors and actresses to play a role.

Have I mentioned that I hate Palpatine and the Trade Federation?

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (insert dramatic music) The invasion is here, which means there will be even more stress for Sabé. (Poor girl.) Thank you all for your kudos and kind comments. They never fail to make me smile!


	5. W.W.P.D.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the thanks, once again, to my beta and BFF. You're the bombdotcom.

_“An evacuation order has been announced for the city of Theed and outlying areas. We have not received full confirmation from Royal Naboo Security Force leader Captain Panaka, or Queen Amidala, but it is likely that the Trade Federation blockade may be developing into something far more sinister and dangerous._

_Those who are able to leave, please do so immediately. There will be further contact from RNSF leadership as events play out. May the Force be with us all.”_

  * Breaking news bulletin courtesy of Mali Nightbreak



* * *

 

Feathered headdresses are not aerodynamic.

I’ve had plenty of opportunity to ponder this ever since Padmé and I were ushered into her chambers to perform the decoy switch. The invasion began early this morning; we received reports of a massive droid army approaching from the north, and far too soon saw their transports and battle droids marching through the main streets of Theed.

This is one of the few times in my life that I haven’t been hungry at all.

“Remember the plan,” Padmé says as she swiftly changes into the flame colored Handmaiden robes from the Inauguration, “Unless I say otherwise, we are staying on Naboo. We are not cowards that run from conflict.”

“Padmé, with all due respect, this is _slightly_ more than simple conflict.” I hold my arms out to my sides as Rabé drapes me in heavy layers of black silk brocade. She told me this particular outfit is designed to absorb a blaster bolt, but I’d rather not test this ingenuity any time soon. “I don’t want to leave any more than you do but the fact remains; we’re currently being invaded.”

“They have violated every sense of moral decency by doing this,” My eyes follow as Padmé paces back and forth. I’m afraid I might topple my headdress if I move my neck too much. “The Trade Federation has been out of control for far too long.”

“I suppose we should’ve listened to you over the years, huh Sabé?” Saché asks, nudging Rabé in the side. “Next thing you know, her theories about Palpatine will be right.”

“How can you joke at a time like this?” Yané’s hands type furiously away at her datapad. “I have to lock down our central database before any of these Trade Federation ingrates break through the firewalls I put up. Do you know what could happen if they manage to gain access to our codes or secret passageways!?”

“They won’t be able to do that,” Rabé says, smoothing down the hood circling my face. “You are far too much of a genius for them to ever break through your security measures. Saché, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe we should leave the humor to Sabé.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Saché and I reply in offended unison. Eirtaé dashes into the room before either of us can add further remarks.

“I’ve just spoken with Lieutenant Typho, Your Highness. The first legion of battle droids has broken through the main gate.” She swallows to cover the shake in her voice. “To avoid capture will be near impossible.”

The tension in the room moves from a simmering boil to a cold, paralyzing fear I can feel in my bones. How am I supposed to pull this off? Padmé is the Queen. I’m just a poor imitation. What if I mess up? What if I trip in this ridiculous dress and accidentally swear? She never swears! They’ll know I’m a fake immediately!

“If we try the passageway leading from the library we may be able to slip past their forces.” Yané points to the location on her holomap. “Then we can rendezvous with Panaka and Typho at the southern entrance of the palace.”

“No, that’s too risky.” Eirtaé begins to pace in a manner similar to Padmé. “We’d have to travel to the other side of the palace to get to the library, which leaves us far too exposed. What if we take the route from behind the painting in the east conference room? That would take us to the docks and we could escape on a hovercraft.”

I raise my hand. “I love the idea of escape, but how exactly do you think I’ll be able to crawl through that passageway wearing this?” I gesture to my outfit. “No offense, Rabé.”

“None taken.”

“A hovercraft would have to be fairly large to carry all of us, which means we’d be easy to detect and likely shot out of the water.” Saché shakes her head. “We’d be like sitting mynocks on a space cruiser. What if we split up? One team with Typho and the other with Panaka?”

“No, we need to stick together if we’re going to appear as a strong, unified presence.” Eirtaé states.

“What if I try to slice into one of the main transports they’re using and have it swerve into the others? That would cause enough of a distraction for us to make an escape.” Yané asks, having dropped her datapad for the time being.

“Yané, how exactly do you expect to get close enough to one of their transports without being shot?”

“Well… we’re all rather small, maybe I could─”

 “NO.” Padmé’s stern tone brings our argument to a screeching halt. “I will not have any of you risk your lives unnecessarily.” She looks at me with a concerned frown. “Sabé, if they want to legitimize their occupation here they will likely try to force you into signing a treaty of some sort. You know how I would respond to that...”

“Go jump in a black hole?” I add pleasantly, earning an eye roll from her.

“…I mean how the Queen would respond.” She sighs before sitting on the side of her bed. “Be ready for anything. I will try to stick as close to you as possible if I need to give you any signals.” Her mouth presses into a firm line, as if she is preventing herself from saying more. “I… I am grateful that I have you all with me. It seems unfair to put you through this.”

“This is what we trained for, Padmé,” Rabé walks away from me and sits beside her on the bed. “None of these circumstances are your fault.”

Padmé wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand. “But if I’d done something differently, tried another approach with the Trade Federation perhaps─”

“The Trade Federation is currently being run by a spineless, monkey-lizard named Nute Gunray.” I take a few steps towards them and nearly trip. Kriffing skirts, they should be banned! “His actions are his responsibility, not yours. You are strong, you are smart, and you will see us all through this. You don’t give up or back down.”

Padmé looks at me for a long, quiet moment. I’ve tried to take advantage of every opportunity I have to further build on her confidence. A small part of me hopes that if I keep doing so, she won’t allow any possible future events make her lose her will to live. An image of her heartbroken and unable to raise her children crosses my mind before I can stop it.

“Thank you… all of you.” She dries her face with a swatch of fabric Rabé offers her ─ she tends to carry miscellaneous objects with her at all times ─ before rising from the bed. “It won’t be long before Captain Panaka arrives. We’d better be ready for when he does.”

Panaka barges in five minutes later. “Your Highness, they have broken into the Palace. We need to leave immediately.” He glances at Rabé, who is putting the final touches on my makeup, and shakes his head. “Vena’s appearance will have to do.” He misses the snarling, cross-eyed expression I make in his direction once he turns to Padmé. “Let’s go.”

I follow behind him, feeling out of sorts as my friends move into formation around me. No wonder Padmé appreciates her alone time so much. She must feel nearly claustrophobic with all of us near her.

I know we’re bound to be captured but maybe we can avoid their notice for a while.

It’s important to stay positive!

* * *

 

The Trade Federation captures us in an embarrassingly short amount of time ─ thirty minutes to be exact. We were in the process of heading towards the library passage when a group of battle droids and destroyers surrounded us.

Kriffing droids, kriffing Trade Federation…

It’s all I can do to focus on not tripping, (“ _Sabé, the key to walking in this dress is to kick as you step.”)_ while our group is escorted down one of the many flights of stairs in the passageway. To make matters worse, I find myself stuck between Nute Gunray and Governor Bibble while trying to navigate said stairs in the most regal manner possible.

The hunger I didn’t feel before has emerged with a vengeance. To say my mood is sour is an understatement.

“How will you explain this invasion to the Senate?” Governor Bibble asks, looking past my headdress to the Neimoidian at my other side. I’ve also noticed how much people like to talk over the Queen as if she isn’t present. If that didn’t benefit my disguise, I would be even more agitated than I currently am.

Kick-step. Kick-step. Kick-step. Kick-step. “The Queen and I will sign a treaty that will legitimize our occupation here.” Like heck I will ─ or Padmé, rather. “I have assurances it will be ratified by the Senate.”

“I will not cooperate.” I respond with as much stubbornness as a royal accent will allow. Padmé should be so proud.

“Now, now, Your Highness,” If I could punch his throat for his condescension, I would die a happy decoy. “In time, the suffering of your people will persuade you to see our point of view.”

All of Padmé’s urgings to refuse to dignify the Neimoidian with a look run through my mind. I settle for mentally calling him every foul name in know in Basic, Gunganese, Twi’leki, and Huttese.

I might have taken a _few_ electives in the Academy.

By the time I’ve worked my way to insults that begin with the letter “E” the Viceroy orders a battle droid to, ‘process us,’ to a prison camp. I don’t know what that is supposed to mean and I’d much rather not find out. Those Jedi better be on time.

We’re escorted out the front entrance ─ why, oh why, do we have so many stairs!? ─ and my stomach churns at the sight of so many armored assault tanks and groups of people being led away as prisoners. There are no signs of violence, not even one carbon burn mars the sandstone beneath our feet.

‘What a lovely day to invade,’ they must have thought.

Our journey through the courtyard goes relatively smoothly, though I long to use the blaster I have concealed within my skirts. I focus on the ground until we cross underneath an archway and I spot the small overpass ahead of us. If my calculations are right, the Jedi and Jar-Jar Binks should appear in three… two…

In a flash of robes and buzzing lightsabers, the Jedi descend from the overpass. Jar-Jar hangs from a ledge, the Gungan having managed to bungle his arrival. I hide my sigh of relief and following look of surprise when Obi-Wan does a jumping split-kick that manages to knock down two droids at once.

That’s a nifty trick. Jedi are amazingly nimble.

Jar-Jar falls on his face as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan make swift work of slicing through our battle droid escort. I feel a hand squeeze the back of my arm ─ Padmé, if I’m not mistaken ─ and continue to watch their effective lightsaber strokes in something akin to awe.

As I contemplate how I can get my hands on my own lightsaber, the droids fall to pieces around us and Qui-Gon addresses me directly. “We should leave the street, Your Highness.”

“Get their weapons,” Panaka orders while Governor Bibble ushers me away with a hand on my back. I try in vain to turn my head back and see any sort of signal from Padmé. Have I mentioned this headdress is annoying?

“Whoa! Yousa guys bombad!” I can picture Saché’s excitement without even looking at her. She’s always wanted to meet a Gungan, though Jar-Jar stands apart from the majority.

We move into a shaded alcove and Qui-Gon turns towards me again. He, unlike many I’ve dealt with while playing decoy, has a respectful mannerism of looking at me directly, instead of over me. It’s refreshing, really. “We’re ambassadors for the Supreme Chancellor.”

“Your negotiations seemed to have failed, Ambassador.” Governor Bibble is, typically, a well-mannered gentleman, which makes his sarcasm oddly humorous. I feel Padmé pushing forward to reach my side, which is more comforting than I can describe.

“The negotiations never took place.” I glance to my left and catch her and Obi-Wan in my peripheral. Hmm… he’s even cuter in person than I remember from the movie ─ but now is _not_ the time to be distracted. “It’s urgent that we make contact with the Republic.”

“They’ve knocked out all our communications.” Panaka adds, sounding as annoyed as I have felt for the past few hours.

“Do you have transports?”

“In the main hanger ─ this way,”

I charge forward, under the protective arm of Governor Bibble once more. Qui-Gon has a much longer gait than the majority of us and I ignore Rabé skirts etiquette for once by slightly lifting them. She can hurt me later.

The main hangar is a short distance away, thankfully, which means we’re that much closer to breaking away from this nonsense. I can practically taste the freedom!

It should be easy from this point onward.

What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

 

I spoke too soon.

Not only did our walk to the hangar nearly result in three explicit words from my mouth, a blasted AAT decided to hover across our pathway. This led to a spectacular display of cannon fire, methodical deflecting with lightsabers, Jar-Jar cowering in fear behind Eirtaé, and a resounding explosion that caused a separation in our group.

I’m currently following Obi-Wan down a back alley and loathing my general existence.

“Are you certain this will lead us to the hangar, Your Highness?” I try not to bristle. His question is legitimate but I know my home well enough, thank you very much.

“Yes. It is not much further, Jedi Kenobi.” Be polite, Sabé, be polite. What would Padmé do? “If we continue along this path, we should rendezvous with the rest of the group shortly.”

He turns back to me, eyebrow raised. “Forgive any impertinence on my part, Your Majesty, but I don’t recall giving any formal introductions?”

Oh kriff. He hasn’t told me his name yet! I might as well broadcast all of my secrets over a megaphone… wait, do we have megaphones here?

What would Padmé do?

“As Queen,” I reply in the most formal, authoritative tone I can muster. “It is my duty to be knowledgeable, not just sitting on a throne while wearing a fancy headdress.”

His other eyebrow raises and I can detect a hint of a smile before he says: “Of course, Your Majesty ─ my mistake.”

I suspect he’s laughing at me.

He pauses at a corner to peek around it before motioning with his hand for me to follow. I bite back the urge to say, ‘As if I’d turn around!’ and settle for calming, meditative thoughts instead. ( _We’re almost there, we’re almost there, we’re almost there…_ )

As I catch up with him he comes to a screeching halt. I narrowly avoid colliding with his back. “There is a group of battle droids up ahead. I suggest you take cover while I dispose of them.”

 _If only I could use my blaster!_ “I will remain hidden, Jedi Kenobi.”

He barely acknowledges my response before rushing forward; leaving me alone long enough to let out a torrent of words I’ve kept back for the past hour. My mother would be appalled at this habit I’ve developed ─ especially in the guise of the Queen.

When the sounds of blasters firing, swooping lightsabers, and squealing droids end, I emerge from my hiding place, only to discover multiple parts strewn across the road. Obi-Wan disengages his weapon and joins me at my side. “I sense a greater threat to the east of us. We must hurry.”

I sense a greater danger to his well being if he keeps ordering me around. “If we follow this alleyway to the right, we will reach the entrance of the hangar.”

The rumbling of another AAT in the distance causes us to break into a sprint ─ or at the very least, an attempt on my part ─ and I begin to wonder if Obi-Wan is hiding annoyance behind a concentrated mask. I’d like to see _him_ run in heels.

The rest of our group waits at the hangar entrance. I can see all of my friends visibly relaxing and try not to step back when Governor Bibble ushers me under his arm once more. I’ve been manhandled far too much for one standard day. “Your Highness, we feared the worst!”

“All is well, Governor. Jedi Kenobi dispatched our enemies efficiently,” And questioned my directional skills too much, “I am glad to see you are all safe.”

Eirtaé blinks at me three times: “ _Status?”_

I wiggle the fingers of my right hand: _“Unharmed_.”

As we gather by the partially opened hangar doors, Panaka and Qui-Gon peek inside. Padmé, once again, squeezes my arm. I’m going to have bruises at this rate.

“There are too many of them.”

“That won’t be a problem.” Qui-Gon, who is quickly becoming my favorite of the two Jedi, turns to me once more. “Your Highness, under the circumstances, I suggest you come to Coruscant with us.”

I fully agree, but until I have Padmé’s word otherwise: “Thank you, Ambassador, but my place is with my people.”

“They will kill you if you stay.”

“They wouldn’t dare!” Bibble sounds, rightfully, irate. I appreciate him much more than I did earlier.

“They need her to sign a treaty to make this invasion legal. They can’t afford to kill her.” As always, I can count on Panaka to be wonderfully pragmatic. How does Padmé do this job?

“There is something else behind all this, Your Highness.” Yes, Qui-Gon, it’s a Sith Lord. Perhaps you know him? Horrid man, shoots lightning from his fingertips, has a distinct cackle. “There’s no logic in the Federation’s move here. My feelings tell me they will destroy you.”

“Our only hope is for the Senate to side with us. Senator Palpatine will need your help.”

“Either choice presents great danger…“ I turn my head towards Padmé, urging her silently to listen to reason. My eyes widen ever so slightly. “…To us all.”

“We are brave, Your Highness.” _Yes._ That’s exactly the permission I need. Have I mentioned I love Padmé?

“If you are to leave, Your Highness, it must be now.”

“Then I will plead our case to the Senate.” Also, I will hopefully not have to say much at all for the foreseeable future. Thank goodness. I glance at Bibble, knowing he will be in great danger as these events play out. “Be careful, Governor.”

Saché clears her throat behind me and we turn to her. “Your Highness, I would like to stay behind and assist Governor Bibble.” _No, no, no_ … how could I have forgotten not all of us are able to leave.

“I as well, My Lady.” Yané speaks up for the first time since we were captured. “My skills could be of use.”

I stare incredulously at both of them, before shooting Padmé a look. Her mouth is pressed into a thin line, but her slow blink assures me of her answer. “If that is what you wish. Be careful.”

My heart clenches when they step away from our cluster and take point on each side of Governor Bibble. I know they are supposed to make it out of this alive. Having this knowledge, however, doesn’t make my emotions any calmer.

If they die, I’ll kill them.

* * *

 

**From meangreenmachine@averna to SVRHM@RNSF 0612 GST Subject: Be careful**

_“I know you won’t listen but don’t worry about me. We’re hiding with a group from the Royal House of Learning. One of the girls has a plan to take on any battle droids that might come our way. I might even get to shoot a blaster._

_Please be careful. You’re probably right in the midst of this. I only have one sister and I’d like to see her again soon._

_XOXO HA, expert droid dismantler “_

  * _Message from civilian contact Halleth Averna to Royal Handmaiden Sabé Vena_



 

* * *

 

Thus far, the only benefit I can find from being strapped down to a throne while flying through Naboo’s atmosphere at full speed is this: it’s only Padmé, Rabé, Eirtaé and I in the throne room. I can be as vocal as I want.

“ _Kriffing Trade Federation─I hate them so much─who is piloting this Force-cursed ship!?”_

I can hear Rabé’s whimper from my left as the ship begins to shake from the barrage of blaster fire. We must be approaching the blockade.

“Calm down, Sabé!” Eirtaé hisses, looking rather green. “Someone may hear you!”

“Padmé, if you only swore more my job would be so much easier!”

“I’ll take that under advisement.”

The ship swoops to the left and lights begin to flash red as an alarm goes off. Eirtaé makes a retching noise. “Oh for heaven’s sake─”

“What is that alarm for!?” Rabé demands, eyes wide in terror.

“It’s probably the shield generator.” I answer. The ship jerks even more violently, which causes me to bite my tongue. My following curses should’ve stripped the paint from the walls.

“Sabé!” How Eirtaé manages to reprimand me while space-sick is a mystery.

_“I’m sorry! I can’t help myself at the moment!”_

Seconds later, which feels more like hours to me, the alarms subside and the ship’s flying levels out. The harness across my chest retracts and I can breathe freely. I bend forward and let my face rest against my knees. “Is everyone okay?”

“I’m going to be sick.” Eirtaé moans. At this rate, I might be joining her. If only I’d eaten a biscuit this morning.

“I don’t want to ever do that again.” Rabé’s voice shakes. “Ever, ever, ever.”

“Sit up, Sabé, before anyone walks in!”

“Just give me a moment, Padmé. Even the Queen is allowed to rest, right?”

“You’d be surprised…“ she mumbles under her breath. I count to five before sitting up. The three girls with me are all in various states of dishevelment. Eirtaé is clutching her head, Rabé has her hood down, and Padmé stands on shaky legs.

As the stress of the morning begins to sink in, I find myself quivering with silent laughter. Eirtaé looks at me, then double takes when she sees the state I’m in. “I think she’s having a nervous breakdown.”

“It’s just so funny!” I clutch my sides as my laughter turns to cackling. “Did you see the split-kick the Jedi kept using? Even you can’t do that and you’re the flexible one!”

“Sabé, that’s not funny.” Her chastising tone only makes me laugh harder. “If anyone sees you like this, they’ll think Queen Amidala has lost her mind.”

“ _I wonder if he could teach us how to do that!?”_

The three girls look at each other as I slide further down the throne, tears freely streaming down my cheeks. Rabé is the first to crack. Our loud laughter fills the room.

“Honestly, you two.” Padmé shakes her head in bemusement. I point my finger at Eirtaé, who is biting her lip in a valiant attempt to remain poised.

“I see─I see that smirk, Eirtaé!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking ab─” She splutters, leaning forward and covering her face with her hands. Her shoulders begin to shake. “Sabé, you’re _ridiculous.”_

One teary-eyed look from me is the key to breaking Padmé’s composure. She flops down onto the bench and giggles more than I’ve heard in months. This, of course, makes me laugh even harder.

“I wonder─if they─practice those splits─at the Jedi temple!”

When Panaka eventually enters the throne room, he is greeted by the sight of Rabé on the ground, Padmé and Eirtaé leaning on each other, and myself hanging halfway off of the throne.

“What in the galaxy is going on in here? The Jedi will be here any minute!” By the time Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan enter the throne room, we are the picture of poise and diplomacy.

What they don’t know won’t hurt them, right?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Obi-Wan and Sabé do get separated from the group in the Phantom Menace video game, I just took some liberties. (Video game Sabé is much more polite.) Next up: our favorite astromech droid, revenge, and further hilarity. 
> 
> Thank you for all the kind comments and kudos! They always make my day. :) 
> 
> P.S. Can anyone guess the meaning of the chapter title?


	6. Always Mature, Never Petty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to my amazing editor for being the best and appreciating the little hints I throw in the story. <3

The universe, for the better part of almost sixteen years, has had plenty of laughs at my expense.

Like the time the Academy had an end of term dance where I accidentally smacked my date in the face while demonstrating my superior dancing skills ─ he only had a mild black eye! ─ or the time I was first introduced to my Great Aunt Bryn and got stuck listening to her stories about her supposed illicit relationship with King Tapalo. ( _“Those ceremonial robes he wore always accented his cute tush. Sabina, you can always tell the measure of a man by his posterior curve.”_ )

It’s amazing I have any grasp on sanity after _that_ conversation. When I told Halleth about it afterwards she laughed for three days.

I miss her.

However, this moment ─ no, that word’s not strong enough ─ this _life-changing event_ nearly makes up for everything I’ve experienced; I get to meet R2-D2! Otherwise known as the best-kriffing-droid-this-galaxy’s-ever-seen, I’ll have you know!

I can’t help but beam when Artoo rolls in with Panaka. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stand off to the right, arms crossed in what I assume is the Jedi version of at-ease ─ though in my opinion, it’s anything _but_ relaxed.

“An extremely well-put-together little droid, Your Highness,” Even Panaka, the most hard-nosed man I’ve ever met, can recognize greatness when he sees it. I shall call this the ‘R2-D2 Effect.’ “Without a doubt, it saved the ship, as well as our lives.”

Internally stamping down the urge to squeal, instead I say: “It is to be commended. What is its number?”

Artoo replies with a series of beeps and trills (“ _This unit is happy to serve Naboo Queen-unit.”_ ) as Panaka searches for his identifying number. Queens do not squeal, Sabé. Queens do not squeal. “Artoo-Deetoo, Your Highness.”

“Thank you, Artoo-Deetoo.” As he rocks back and forth in an imitation of a bow, I have a sudden revelation. Should I be this petty… no, I should be mature and diplomatic and revenge is never the answer ─

“Padmé.” I call her forward, catching her surprised look when she walks over to Artoo. “Clean this droid up as best you can.” Her surprise turns to amusement. This will be more than enough payback for all the luncheons she made me sit through as her. Revenge is sweet. “It deserves our gratitude.”

Sabé, you are a bastion of maturity. “Continue Captain,” I see his raised eyebrow at my antics and choose to thoroughly ignore it. He turns toward the Jedi and fixes them with an annoyed expression I’m quite familiar with.

“Your Highness, with your permission, we’re heading for a remote planet called Tatooine.” Qui-Gon steps forward; Obi-Wan stands back from him, solemn as always. “It’s in a system far beyond the reach of the Trade Federation.”

Yes, because it’s controlled by the Hutts. What a _lovely_ idea for us to stop there.

“I do not agree with the Jedi on this.” It always unnerves me when Panaka and I have similar thoughts. Padmé looks from him to me, blinking once in my direction.

“You must trust my judgment, Your Highness.” Qui-Gon states, likely knowing full well we’ll go along with his plan anyway. Padmé blinks at me again before I respond.

“Very well, Master Jedi. We shall go to Tatooine.” He nods respectfully to me. Knowing Padmé will want further answers; I raise my chin and continue: “What is our purpose in landing in such a remote system? Particularly one in which Jabba the Hutt holds a seat of power?”

Both Jedi remain calm. I suppose they’re used to inquisitive Queens. “The ship’s hyperdrive generator sustained damage while breaking through the blockade. We shall journey to the closest spaceport to procure repair parts.” A spark of amusement lights Qui-Gon’s eyes. “If it pleases Your Majesty, of course.”

I see where Obi-Wan gets some of his mannerisms from.

Padmé is far from _pleased_ at this conversation, I’m certain. She likely views it as condescending. Glancing at her, I see her lips are pressed firmly together. “It would appear we have little to no choice, Master Jedi. Your assistance in this matter is greatly appreciated.”

Qui-Gon inclines his head before stepping back. Artoo emits a low whir, bringing Padmé’s attention back to him. She shoots me a look over her shoulder as they depart the throne room.

She’s going to have a fit once we’re alone. I just hope it’s directed at Qui-Gon and not me.

After an hour or so of deliberation, Rabé, Eirtaé and I are finally alone in the throne room. I breathe a sigh of relief and sag in my seat. My headdress falls forward and I push it back with a grumpy swat. “That was exhausting.”

“Did you see the look on Padmé’s face?” Rabé moves to a bench and stretches her arms above her head. “She looked ready to strangle the Master Jedi for being vague with his information.”

“Before or after she strangles Sabé for ordering her to clean up a droid?” Eirtaé laughs. “You are very brave, Sabé Vena.”

“It’s not as if cleaning Artoo up will be that difficult. Besides, she ordered me to act as if she’s a regular handmaiden, which includes menial tasks…“ Eirtaé stands in front of me, planting one hand on her hip while waving a finger with the other.

“Just admit it. You got back at her for all those luncheons with Representative Nmari.”

“Are you implying that _I_ would be so petty as to do such a thing?”

“Yes.” Rabé and Eirtaé answer in unison. I burst out laughing while they shake their heads at me.

“C’mon, now ─ you would have done the same thing if you were in my shoes.” I grin at Rabé. “Admit it.”

“I have a clean conscience, unlike some I can mention.”

“What I would like to know is how _you_ knew that information about Jabba the Hutt.” My smile freezes on my face as Eirtaé narrows her eyes at me. Oh kriff. “Even Panaka seemed surprised about that.”

“Well… “ Think Sabé, _think_. “Who do you think listens to Yané the most when she’s ranting about potential threats from unsavory characters such as Jabba the Hutt?”

Thank the Stars Yané is such a worrywart, otherwise that excuse wouldn’t have worked at all.

“Oh, I suppose that makes sense.” Eirtaé sits beside Rabé and exhales slowly. “I hope she and Saché are alright.”

My stomach clenches like receiving a punch to the midsection. If I spend too much time thinking about all of our loved ones back on Naboo, I won’t be able to function. I’ve had to remind myself that our actions are in hopes of saving them. “Me too, Eirtaé.” Seeing that Rabé’s mouth has begun to quiver, I try to come up with a distraction.

“Say, Rabé… how much longer am I going to have to wear this blasted headdress?”

* * *

 

Padmé is the most stubborn girl I’ve ever met.

“No.” Rabé, Eirtaé, and I state as said most-stubborn-girl changes into clothing that will help her blend into her surroundings on Tatooine. After cleaning up Artoo she marched back into the throne room and announced she was leaving with Master Qui-Gon.

We’ve been arguing with her for an hour.

“I don’t fully trust that Jedi after his pitiful excuses for answers to me ─” She pauses and looks at me.   “─ I mean, you, in the throne room. Who’s to say what he will try to do on Tatooine without supervision?”

“And you think your presence is going to stop him?” I ask, waving my arms. I knew this would happen but it doesn’t make it any less annoying. Protecting her is a full time job. “The only reason he has been agreeable with me is the fact that we’re backed into a corner ─ unless you see any other systems around here that can help us before we reach Coruscant?”

“I hear your concerns, Sabé.” Her mollifying tone assures me that she, in fact, does not.

“Oh for the worlds’ sake, no you don’t! _Please_ enlighten me as to how I’m supposed to continue to be you while you’re gone? Without your guidance, what if I do something crazy like ─ oh, I don’t know ─ accidentally assign the monarchy to Jar Jar Binks or get in a fight with Panaka or blow my cover in some other horrific way?”

Rabé and Eirtaé look back and forth between us as Padmé stares me down. I match her look.

“One,” she begins, “Jar Jar is coming with us as well so I doubt you’ll assign any monarchies over to him while I’m gone ─”

“Oh, well _that’s_ comforting.”

“─ two, you fight with Panaka daily whether or not I am present and three, you have done an excellent job thus far. I have every faith in your capabilities, Sabé.”

“My capabilities won’t matter if you run around Tatooine and get yourself hurt like a complete ninny!”

Rabé clears her throat, breaking the stare down between the two of us. “Padmé, _if_ you insist on going, we need to ensure you have proper sunscreen and a hairstyle that will be easy to manage without us.”

I cross my arms as they move to the refresher. Eirtaé walks to her bed and lifts the datapad lying on the surface. “She’s right, you know.”

“About my daily arguments with Panaka?” I grouse, flopping backwards on my bed. My headdress shifts forward again and I find myself too agitated to fix it.

“About your ability to imitate her; if we didn’t know about the switch, you’d probably fool all of us too.”

I lift my head to stare at her. “Thank you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t mess up without her here.” I let my head fall back.

“Sabé, you don’t know the future.” I laugh once, sounding harsher than I intended. If only she knew. “Anything can happen. However, if you keep doing what you have been doing, our Queen’s secrets will be safe.”

Slowly, I sit up and sigh heavily. “Since when did you get so wise, Eirtaé?”

“I like to think about what my family would advise me to do and instead, do the exact opposite.”

Well, then.

The refresher door slides open; revealing a chagrined looking Padmé wearing street garb and a peacekeeping Rabé behind her. “I’m sorry Sabé. I know my leaving puts you under further duress than you’ve already experienced.”

“I’m sorry, too. You’re not a ninny.” I smooth my skirts down. “If anything, you’re the smartest girl I know. Try not to get yourself killed, okay?”

“Certainly.” She smiles at me.

“Or eaten by a sarlacc.”

“I will avoid that as well.”

“Or sold to a Hutt because those outfits they make women wear are scandalous and, quite frankly, rather uncomfortable looking and something your future child should never have to endure ─”

Padmé’s laugh cuts my ranting short. “That is so… specific, but I will make sure that neither I nor my future child will end up in servitude to a Hutt. I hate those outfits too.” She smiles at each of us. “Good luck to all of you.”

A thought occurs to me that I’m amazed I haven’t realized before. I slyly grin at her as our chamber door slides open. “Oh, you’re the one who’s going to need luck. You get to tell Panaka that you’re leaving.”

I’ve never seen Padmé’s eyes go so wide.

* * *

 

You want to know what’s boring: sitting in a throne room, staring at absolutely nothing.

For the first hour after Padmé left, Panaka argued with us about our, ‘complete lack of responsibility,’ and, ‘total neglect for Handmaiden ethics,’ and, ‘utter disregard for RNSF standard conduct,’ until I thought he was going to asphyxiate from sheer outrage.

Padmé has no idea how close she came to needing to hire a replacement Captain.

After he thoroughly reamed us for anything and everything under the Tatooine suns, he left in a huff to Force knows where. He missed the snarling expressions all three of us gave him once his back was turned. (I’ve clearly rubbed off on my fellow Handmaidens.)

Rabe grumbled: “His face is not worth protecting with sun blocking moisturizer.”

Then, Eirtaé made this comment: “He’s unfit for any place but a black hole.”

Of course, immediately afterwards they both felt sorry for saying it. Sometimes they’re too nice for their own good.

I won’t repeat what I muttered. It wasn’t polite.

After we had a moment to settle down, the atmosphere morphed from tense to completely, utterly stale. I passed the time from counting the cushions on the bench ─ twelve, to be exact ─ to guessing how long it takes a cleaning droid to dust all the arches above our heads.

Unfortunately, these ponderings only take up ten minutes of my time. Is it possible to spiral into the abyss out of sheer boredom? I’m asking for a friend.

Thus, we wait… and wait… and wait… and wait… and, for the sake of variety, we wait some more. Then, once we’ve done that, we get to wait _even more._ And, if you’re sitting on the edge of your seat in anticipation, we wait after that! How very exciting!

It would help if Naboo protocol didn’t demand silence in a throne room unless the Queen speaks first.  Whoever made up this Force-awful rule should be strung up by their toes, in my humble opinion. Even so, this rule does benefit my disguise. If I don’t speak there’s less opportunity for me to blow it.

The only change I notice around us is the howling of wind outside and sand buffeting against the ship. Somehow I doubt Tatooine is known as a vacation destination.

Maybe I should count the scuffs in the floor. It looks like it’s been a while since it has been polished. Oh, look! There’s one by the front entrance. I wonder who’s responsible for that? The Jedis’ boots seem too soft soled to make such a mark. Maybe it was one of the pilots. Ric Olié does walk as if he’s flat-footed.

I’m going to lose my mind…

“I can’t take this anymore.” I stand up, pacing the length of the room. “I need to do something ─ _anything_ ─ before I go insane.”

Eirtaé rushes over, making a shushing motion with her hand. “Someone may hear you!”

“And they’ll think the Queen has normal needs as well, what a novel concept!”

“Save the sass for Panaka; besides, what do you think you can do? Go outside?”

I blink once, twice. “Well, no… not when you say it like that.”

“Exactly ─ now sit down before someone ─” Our heads jerk to the side as footsteps approach the throne room. Within seconds, I am seated in my usual position, with Eirtaé and Rabé flanking me. Obi-Wan enters the chamber, bowing once before Panaka and a handful of pilots join him.

“We have received a transmission from Naboo, Your Highness.”

I hear Rabé’s quiet gasp as I answer: “Let us hear it, Jedi Kenobi.”

He and Panaka take a seat to my left, while the other pilots, including Ric Olié, take up the right side benches. A holoprojection of Governor Bibble appears in the room and my heart sinks. The image in front of us crackles as if the sandstorm outside is interfering with our receiver.

_“The death toll is catastrophic. We must bow to their wishes. You must contact me.”_

Before I can open my mouth, Obi-Wan is on his feet. “It’s a trick. Send no reply. Send no transmissions of any kind.”

“That’s easy for you to say!” One of the pilots jumps up. “It’s not your family that’s in danger back home.” The Jedi doesn’t reply, leaving us all behind in the chamber. Further arguments break out around me as Ric Olié follows him out.

“Stand down, Pilot Var.” Panaka orders, looking as if he’s aged ten years within a moment’s time. I feel my heart sink further down to my feet. “If we were to send a reply the Trade Federation could trace it back to our location.”

Pilot Var turns to me. “Your Highness,” This time, I hear Eirtaé gasp over his blatant disregard for protocol by addressing me directly. “Surely you want to know what is happening on Naboo! Our families and friends are in danger!”

I swallow the lump in my throat. Decisions like this are why I didn’t want Padmé to leave. I’m not qualified for this… “I understand your concern, Pilot Var. We must listen to Jedi Kenobi’s instructions.”

I watch as anger contorts his face. He looks seconds away from verbally tearing me apart before Panaka stands in between us. “I said, _stand down_ , Pilot. I won’t repeat myself again.”

For a moment, I wonder if the pilot is going to take a swing at Panaka. My body tenses in preparation for defending myself if need be, disguised or not, until he straightens his posture. “Permission to continue inspection of the ship’s power couplings?”

“Granted.”

Pilot Var swiftly exits the throne room, while the rest file out behind him in a much more respectful manner. My eyes begin to sting as I fight back tears. I don’t remember seeing any signs of genocide or warfare in the movie once the characters returned to Naboo. But what if this is different?

It has to be a trick. It has to be a trick. It has to be a trick.

I can’t bear the thought of what it would mean if it were true.

* * *

 

**From meangreenmachine@averna to SVRHM@RNSF 0302 GST Subject: Update**

_“The Federation has taken full control of the Palace. The only reason I know this is because I ran into one of the Handmaidens. She said her name is Saché. She’s been delivering messages from the RNSF and Governor Bibble to the leaders of the Resistance fighters here._

_You were right about me being a rebel. Laugh all you want._

_She also said that the Queen and some of her Handmaidens managed to escape and they’re headed to Coruscant. When I asked her about you, she pulled me aside and told me that you’re with them. She wants me to pass along her well wishes, if you’ll even get this message. I hope you bring Chaos to any bad person that crosses your path, sister._

_I have to go now. We’re going to take out a garrison by the plasma refinery. Turns out I’m a pretty good shot with a blaster._

_XOXO Halleth Averna, crack-shot Rebel“_

  * _Message from civilian contact Halleth Averna to Royal Handmaiden Sabé Vena_



 

* * *

 

It doesn’t seem possible that so much has happened in fourteen standard hours.

I lie awake, having finally escaped my skirts and headdress in exchange for a pair of light grey, hooded robes. Somehow I feel simultaneously heavier without them and exposed without heavy makeup on my face.

After we received the message we were able to retire for the evening. I pretended not to hear Rabé crying in the refresher or see Eirtaé clenching her fists over and over again. Any jokes I could use as a distraction seem to fall short.

I haven’t spoken anything in hours.

They eventually fall asleep in their beds, leaving me with the company of my thoughts and worries I’ve managed to suppress until now. I left my datapad at home and have no idea what is going on with Halleth, or Yané and Saché. What about my parents? What about the population of Naboo as a whole?

I need fresh air.

As quietly as possible, I tiptoe out of the chamber, glancing over my shoulder to make sure the girls are still asleep. Once I’m in the hallway I sneak past the pilots’ quarters. One of them left a pair of boots by the door and a flight jacket hanging outside on a hook, which I grab in passing. It may be cold where I’m going.

Even if I could make it to the loading ramp undetected, the noise of opening said ramp will draw attention to me. Instead, I follow the corridor to the astromech bay. I see that every charging station is empty. Only Artoo survived the emergency repair while we sped through the blockade.

The only viable exit of the ship is the astromech hatch, which leads directly to the top. After some finagling of the controls, and a number of muttered curses, I hear the hatch open. I’m suddenly grateful for being short as I tug the pilot boots on, crawl into the tunnel and then climb upwards.

Once I see the starry sky above my head, I reach upwards until my hands grasp the ledge and pull myself completely through to the top. The cool air that brushes my face makes me shiver.

I hope the pilot who’s currently missing a jacket won’t need it anytime soon.

Once I’m settled atop of the ship, I draw my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. The tears I’ve been fighting all day come to the surface when I count the moons in the sky. Three, just like Naboo.

If anyone were to fly over the ship, they’d see a small, sobbing girl wrapped in a jacket and wearing boots three sizes too big for her. I wonder if they’d pity her, or think she’s crazy for sitting alone in an arguably dangerous place. Would they know the weight on her shoulders?

It’s been a long time since I’ve cried like this. I usually prefer to take out my frustrations with training or finding something to make myself laugh. Perhaps, subconsciously, I knew this is what I needed. The tight feeling in my chest begins to loosen.

“You can do this, Sabé. You’re here for a reason. Kriff if I know what it is, but you’re still here.”

I hear a familiar shrieking noise in the distance and glance behind me. A herd of bantha crosses the desert and, if I’m not mistaken, a few of them are ridden by Tusken Raiders. I lie on my stomach to further conceal myself and watch as they move past. The last thing we need is to be seen by a violent group like them.

They turn southward away from our ship and the settlement further up from us. I can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes me once their shapes fade away completely.

That could have been bad.

I look at the chrono on my wrist and curse. I’d better get back inside before anyone notices that I’m gone. Saying goodbye to the quiet evening and moons above me, I drop down the shaft and close the hatch behind me.

Once I’ve removed the jacket and boots, I pull my hood up and peek outside the astromech bay. There is no one on either side of the corridor. I’m practically home free!

It’s nice that one of my plans worked out for once.

I return the jacket and boots to their previous stations and make my way towards the Royal chambers. Hmm… maybe I should stop by the galley and see what we have available. As I visualize a plate full of biscuits the door to the engine room slides open, startling me so badly that I yelp and jump to my left.

“Kriff! You scared the ever-loving ─” I clamp my mouth shut when I see a confused Obi-Wan staring down at me. This is bad. This is very, very bad.

Padmé is going to kill me, reincarnate me since I know now it’s possible, and then kill me again.

“Hello there. I apologize for startling you.”

I immediately assume the proper Handmaiden stance: expressionless face, straight shoulders, and quiet voice. “It is I who should be more watchful, Jedi Kenobi.”

He narrows his eyes slightly, as if trying to figure out which Handmaiden I’m supposed to be. I’m grateful I pulled my hood down earlier or I’d be in even more trouble. “You’re out rather late, Handmaiden… “ He trails off, waiting for me to give my name.

“Just Handmaiden, sir, is a proper way to address me.” I lie through my teeth. How long do I have before I can make a polite retreat?

“Is that so?” I look up and see the familiar almost-smile he likes to utilize. “Certainly that must be confusing.”

“Only to the uninformed,” My mind scrambles as his almost-smile turns into a full-fledged one. Just what does he find so _funny_? “We Handmaidens are quite used to it.”

“I shall consider myself now informed.” He drawls. “Though Padmé managed to be addressed by her proper name… would this be special treatment?” _Kriff._ _Kriff. Kriff._

“The Queen is allowed to do as she wishes.”

“I suppose you are right.” An awkward silence fills the air between us. I feel my face begin to redden from embarrassment. “Does the Queen have you out on an errand so late in the evening?”

I inwardly leap at the excuse he’s given me. Who knew Obi-Wan could be so helpful? “Yes, sort of; she hasn’t eaten much and I am going to the galley to bring her back some provisions.” There. That seems reasonable. Doesn’t it?

Judging by his increasingly amused expression, I doubt he believes me. “That is kind of you, _Handmaiden_.” The heat I feel in my face travels to my ears. I wouldn’t be surprised if steam shoots out of them. “If you want to save yourself some time, I suggest you turn back that way.”

He points behind me and I instantly remember that the galley is in the opposite direction of where I’m headed; _fantastic_. “Thank you, Jedi Kenobi, for your helpful instruction.” I say as politely as possible. “Have a good evening.”

“You’re welcome.” There’s no disguising the laughter in his voice now. “Sleep well.”

I speed-walk to the galley, close the door behind me and lean back against it. I punctuate my following words with the thumping of my head. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”

Now, I’ll have to explain to Rabé and Eirtaé that not only did I sneak out; we will also have to refer to each other as _Handmaiden_ for the foreseeable future.

After this is over, I’m definitely asking for a raise.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm... can Sabé stay out of trouble long enough until they reach Coruscant? Only time will tell. Also, does anyone else laugh picturing Halleth and Saché in a room together? No? Just me? 
> 
> Thank you to all who left kudos and for your kind comments. I enjoy talking with you all and I hope you enjoyed the newest chapter. Happy belated Star Wars Day! :)


	7. Poetic Tap-Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As we all know, julesley is the best for editing and entertaining all my ideas for the future of this story. Thank you. :)

I think I’m dreaming. 

I have thought this many times over the course of my reincarnated life, but in this case it is a particularly strong feeling. Why do I feel so strongly about this, you ask? I’ll tell you why. 

I’m currently watching Qui-Gon in the midst of a concerning, yet quite skilled tap-dancing session. Not only are his feet moving at a rate that even the most talented of Jedi would fail to accomplish ; he is also accompanied by Palpatine, who is reciting bad poetry while clutching a skull that looks like it’s made of gelatin with his right hand. 

_ “Roses are red, violets are blue, I shall conquer the galaxy, the Jedi say boo-hoo.”  _

Qui-Gon spins on Palpatine, flourishing his arms over his head in an arch.  _ “Do not interrupt my plethora of swift-footed dancing moves, fiend! I. Must. Dance!”  _

If only I had a camera. I couldn’t even make this kriffing nonsense up if I tried. 

_ “Roses are red, violets are blue, your dancing is abominable, compared to Count Dooku.”  _

Obi-Wan appears in a burst of light, brandishing a lightsaber that shoots confetti out of the hilt. It pelts both dancer and poet in a shower of sparkles.  _ “Palpatine! You foul potato-waffle! No one insults my Master’s superior swift-footed dance moves!”  _

As the men begin an altercation by way of throwing their boots and tap shoes at each other, I am suddenly brought back to reality. I open one eye as the comlink by Eirtaé’s bed blares at an ungodly rate. 

Rab é throws a pillow in her direction. “Eirtaé, make it stop.” 

The girl in question remains buried underneath her covers. I will never understand how she is able to sleep through this noise. I roll out of bed, cursing when I lose my balance for a moment, and then snatch the comlink off of the nightstand. “Vena here . ” 

_ “Sabé!” _ Padmé’s hushed voice is enough to knock me out of my sleep-deprived stupor.  _ “I’m sorry to call you so early but this is the only chance I have.”  _

“It’s fine, Padmé . ” I flop on Eirtaé’s bed, startling her awake. Rabé sits up and rubs her eyes with the back of her hands. “Tell us what’s happened.” 

The three of us listen as Padmé informs  us  about Qui-Gon’s unorthodox methods, the kindness of Anakin and Shmi Skywalker, and her inability to speak up without giving away her identity. It would be amusing, if it weren’t for the fact that she sounds genuinely distressed. 

_ “Also, I overheard Master Jinn speaking to Jedi Kenobi about a blood sample he took from Ani ─ something about having a high midi-chlorian count. I had to leave before the conversation was finished since Jar Jar discovered me and asked, ‘Miss Padmé, whata yousa doing in the doorway?’”  _

Eirtaé holds her hand out and I pass the comm over to her. “Did I misunderstand you when you said Master Jinn bet our ship,  _ our only hope of getting to Coruscant _ , on a pilot who hasn’t even won a race?” 

_ “No, Eirtaé, you did not.”  _ Her weary sigh somehow manages to translate clearly over the comm’s speaker.  _ “I only hope he knows what he is doing. Poor Ani is risking his life for this… has anything happened on the ship since I left _ ?” 

We share a look before Eirtaé replies. “We received a message from Governor Bibble, claiming evil tidings back on Naboo. Jedi Kenobi advised us that the message was false and not to reply. Sabé handled the situation well.” I feel my face turning red from the unexpected compliment. 

“Yes . ” Rabé adds, offering a small smile to me. “I don’t know how I would have managed to hold my composure if I were in Sabé’s shoes.” 

_ “Good work, Sabé. I knew I could trust you.”  _

I clear my throat and rub the back of my neck. “Well… you may not be so thrilled with me now. We have to call each other  _ Handmaiden _ and only that for the foreseeable future.” 

_ “What _ ?” they ask in unison, making me flinch. 

I hope they don’t kill me before I am able to use the, ‘potato-waffle,’ insult on someone. 

“I may have run into Jedi Kenobi while on the way to the galley for a late night snack, and we  _ might _ have had a slightly awkward conversation about the proper way to address a Handmaiden when he hinted about my name.” I’m afraid to tell them anything further, especially about my climb to the top of the ship.

Eirtaé and Rabé stare at me in something akin to horror. I try not to wilt under their gazes. 

_ “Do you think he suspects anything?”  _ Padmé asks, after a long, uncomfortable silence. 

“Well… it’s possible. But I’m going to be extra cautious from now on. Maybe I can, while disguised as the Queen, enlist one of the pilots to distract him until you’re back!” 

_ “That would be an abuse of the Queen’s authority…“ _

“But is it  _ truly _ when we have so many pilots willing to help the Queen in dire circumstances such as these?” 

_ “Only you would call an awkward encounter with a Jedi, ‘dire circumstances,’ Sabé.” _

Our heads whip to the right when we hear three distinct raps against our chamber door. Rabé sighs heavily, allowing her posture to slump. We all know that security knock. “If we pretend we can’t hear Panaka, will he go away?” 

“You know, Saché tried that once and failed miserably.” Eirtaé points out as I move to my feet. “We’d better let him join in the conversation with Her Majesty.” 

I arrive at the door, dragging my feet in the process, and tap the unlocking code into the keypad. Panaka wastes no time entering the chamber as soon as the door slides open. “Handmaiden Vena, have you had any contact from the Queen since she left?” 

I pass the comm link to him. “Funny you should mention that, Captain.” 

As he begins a discussion with Padmé about his growing concerns over the Jedis’ decision making skills, and her following hearty agreement over said growing concerns, I allow myself to flop on Eirtaé’s bed. I am mid - yawn as she elbows me in the side. “I take it you’re not going to tell the Captain about your run-in last night?” 

“Kriff, no! I’ll take suspicious Jedi over another Panaka lecture any day!” 

I shudder to think what would happen if they discovered I snuck out of the ship. 

* * *

 

Have I mentioned how much I love feathered headdresses? In fact, I love them so much that I decided this morning I shall wear them day after day. (By decided, I mean we realized that there are no other options set aside in the wardrobe, so guess who gets to wear the same outfit indefinitely!) 

Forgive my sarcasm. I’m a little grumpy at the moment. 

Our return to the throne room for another long, exciting session of waiting is soon interrupted by the appearance of Obi-Wan. I notice his eyes narrowing on Rabé and Eirtaé behind me as I greet him. “Good morning, Jedi Kenobi.” 

“Good morning, Your Highness.” I’m thankful for my heavily applied makeup as he turns to the girls behind me. “Good morning to you as well, Handmaiden and Handmaiden.” 

Oh for crying out loud. He just has to be an instigator this morning, doesn’t he? 

“Good morning, Jedi Kenobi.” They both respond in neutral, even tones. I know I’m going to be teased by the both of them about this once we’re alone.  _ He _ on the other hand is looking far too pleased with himself. 

“Have you any news of Master Jinn’s progress in the acquisition of repair parts?” I ask, turning his attention back on me. I’ll wipe that smirk off his face if it’s the last thing I do. 

“He is in the process of purchasing a T-14 hyperdrive generator by participating in a local event to generate income.” He answers smoothly. I fight the urge to roll my eyes at the skimming over of details. 

“I see. I assume the local event you’re referring to is the Boonta Eve podrace occurring this morning?” I feel a slight rush of victory when Obi-Wan’s posture adjusts ever-so-slightly. “In which not only has Master Jinn placed our ship as gambling collateral, he has also enlisted a pilot who has not managed to successfully win a podrace. Did I leave anything out?” 

I hear Rabé cough behind me as Obi-Wan’s mouth twitches. “Jar Jar Binks experienced an episode of facial numbness by accidentally getting caught in a plasma energy binder. I’m assuming Handmaiden  _ Padmé _ did not inform you of that occurrence.” 

“No, she did not. Nor should she be the only source of information if we are to work together harmoniously.” I stand up, thankful for the added height from the step below the throne. “I understand Master Jinn’s methods might be unorthodox but I do believe he is working towards the success of our mission. I ask for further elaboration from you, Jedi Kenobi, concerning future events. Do I make myself clear?” 

Obi-Wan inclines his head slightly. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you. That will be all.” 

He seems surprised at my sudden dismissal but wastes no time in exiting the throne room. Once a suitable amount of time has passed, I sit back down and heave a sigh of relief. “What a kriffing mess.” 

“I’m impressed.” I can hear the grin in Eirtaé’s voice. “That speech sounded as if it came straight from Padmé’s mouth.  _ Handmaiden _ , indeed.” 

“He seems to be an incorrigible one.” Rabé adds. “I imagine the shuura fruit doesn’t fall far from Master Jinn’s tree.” 

“Perhaps your plan to distract the Jedi isn’t a completely horrible one…“ I turn to Eirtaé with an offended look. 

“I  _ know _ you’re not implying that my plans are horrible.” A wicked grin crosses my face before I can stop it. “I wonder what dear old Pilot Var is up to…“ 

Within five minutes, Pilot Var stands before us. He manages to appear much more apologetic than he did the previous evening. “Your Highness, I was completely out of line last night. If you are planning on demoting me, I would like to humbly ask your forgiveness ─” 

“Apology accepted, Pilot Var.” He blinks in surprise at my interruption. “I am, however, in need of your assistance in a matter of great urgency.” He bows on one knee, the picture of proprietary etiquette. 

“How may I be of service, Queen Amidala?” 

I resist the urge to smile as I say: “It has come to my attention that Jedi Kenobi is in need of a sort of right-hand man to assist him with repairs and communication with our team on the planet. He is far too humble to ask for support and it worries me to think he might be overwhelmed. I suspect you will be the perfect man for the job.” 

Pilot Var stands up quickly, managing to bow and nod his head in unison. “You can count on me, Your Highness!” 

“Thank you. I believe he is in the engine room waiting for your assistance.” 

Within seconds, Pilot Var marches out of the throne room with full intention of completing his assigned mission. My shoulders begin to shake from laughter as I picture the look on Obi-Wan’s face once he realizes he has a pilot-shaped shadow. 

“That… was very sneaky of you, Sabé Vena.” I stand up and grin at my fellow Handmaidens. Their expressions match mine. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi messed with the wrong Handmaidens. 

* * *

 

“Stop biting your nails, Sabé. You’ll mess up the polish.” 

“I’m sorry, Rabé, watching this is just a  _ little _ stressful!” 

“Would you both be quiet? I’m trying to hear what the announcers are saying!” 

The three of us are crowded together in our chamber, sharing Eirtaé’s datapad as we watch the live feed of the podrace. It’s one thing to watch this event in a movie. It’s another thing entirely when your life depends on the success of little Ani Skywalker. 

Hence my nail biting ─ apparently I haven’t fully broken that habit. 

“Which one is he?” Rabé asks and I point to the smallest podracer in the lineup. He waves to the crowd and receives an uproarious response. “Stars… he’s so a _ dorable _ .” 

“Really?” Eirtaé asks in disbelief. “That’s what you’re going to focus on right now?” She pauses as Anakin’s face fills the tiny screen. Apparently the recorder droids love him. “Aww… he is rather cute, isn’t he?” 

I snicker. “You two are an absolute mess.” 

They both shush me as the flag procession crosses in front of the podracers. When I narrow my eyes, I can just make out the unfinished form of C-3PO. The sand must be wreaking havoc on his circuit board. 

We remain silent as the countdown begins. I can only imagine what it would be like to be physically present for the race, judging by the excitement of the crowd. Padmé, knowing her, has likely morphed into a 5’3” ball of worry. 

I’m not that far behind her. 

“What!?” Rabé exclaims when Anakin’s podracer stalls on the track. “What’s going on!? Why is it doing that!?” 

“I don’t know! I’m not a podracer mechanic.” I grumble as she leans further forward. 

“Oh, look. There he goes!” Eirtaé points to the screen as he takes off down the track. “Goodness, these ships do move fast.” 

“Hence the racing, so I’m told…“ I receive an elbow to the ribs for my trouble and swear viciously. “How are you so frakking strong?” 

She ignores my question ─ I’ve asked this particular one on multiple occasions ─ and we quiet down once more to watch the feed. I raise my hand towards my mouth. Rabé swats it down without even looking. 

It’s no wonder Anakin becomes such a powerful Jedi: seeing him accomplish this race is enough to prove that he has superhuman reflexes. I swear once again as Tusken Raiders appear on the screen and begin shooting at the racers. 

“Who are they!?” Once again, Rabé questions us. This time I actually know the answer. 

“They’re Tusken Raiders, or Sand People if you ask the locals. You don’t want to be caught up in a fight with them.” 

“For our sake, I hope we never will be.” Eirtaé murmurs as Anakin clears the area where the Tusken Raiders are situated. Our relief is short lived when one of the cables connected to his ion engines comes loose and the cockpit spins out of control. 

“Oh no!” Rabé grabs my arm tightly enough to cut off blood circulation. I watch Anakin spin and my stomach churns. I know I would have gotten sick if I were in his position. “There’s no way he’s going to reco─” Her jaw drops when he extends a mag stick to catch the loose cable, while piloting with one hand, and reconnects the cable with the other. He takes off once more. “Are we sure this boy is only human?” 

No, he’s just the Chosen One, according to Jedi prophecy. No big deal or anything. 

“He’s catching up to that Dug, Sebulbous.” 

“It’s Sebulba, Eirtaé.” She rolls her eyes at me. 

“I came close enough!” 

We watch in tense silence as Anakin is forced onto a service ramp, soaring high over Sebulba’s head. Rabé squeals in excitement when he arcs downward and claims the first place position in a masterful move. “Look at him go! I can’t believe he did that!” 

“Maybe Master Jinn knows what he’s doing…“ Eirtaé looks at the both of us. “Don’t tell Padmé I said that, or at least wait until after she’s do ne being mad at him.” 

“Your secret’s safe with me.” I smile back at her. 

Rabé’s grip on my arm, by some manner of Force-craft, tightens further when one of Anakin’s engines catches on fire. Sebulba speeds by him and I quickly remember that the Dug cheated at the beginning of the race by breaking one of the regulators while no one was watching. What a kriffing nerf-herder. 

The tension worsens when Anakin manages to recover the engine and catch up to Sebulba, only for their cables to get locked together. Whoever wrote this race sequence had no compassion for a person’s nerves whatsoever. 

Rabé and Eirtaé gasp when Anakin breaks away, causing Sebulba’s podracer to fly apart. We all jump up, screaming in joy as he makes the last turn and crosses the finish line. Eirtaé even joins in on our hug in a rare display of affection.

“He did it! He did it!” Rabé’s singing voice carries through the chamber. “I don’t know how, but he did it!” 

“You know what this means, right?” I laugh. “I won’t have to wear this stupid outfit much longer!” 

A knock on the door startles us apart. We regain our composure as Eirtaé opens the door, revealing Obi-Wan and Pilot Var standing behind him. I bite my lip to keep from giggling. 

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty. I have just been informed that the pilot my Master sponsored has won the podrace.” His neutral expression brightens as he grins. “As I’m sure you’re  _ completely _ unaware of these events, I thought I’d be quick to pass on the message.” 

He must have heard our squealing. I’m too excited to care. “Thank you, Jedi Kenobi. Your swiftness in delivering this news is appreciated.” 

“They will return first thing in the morning with the repair parts. I have it under good authority that Pilot Var here is an excellent mechanic and will have the new hyperdrive installed quickly.” 

Pilot Var manages to look embarrassed. “I wouldn’t say  _ excellent _ …“ 

“I have every faith in your capabilities, Jedi Kenobi and Pilot Var.” The pilot in question turns a bright shade of red. “Please keep us informed of any updates.” 

“Certainly, Your Highness.” Obi-Wan’s grin turns devious. “If you can save some of the highlights from the race, I’d like to watch it myself.” 

Eirtaé closes the door in his face. 

* * *

 

 **From meangreenmachine@averna to SVRHM@RNSF 0517 GST** **Subject: [no subject]**

_ “I have to hurry. We’re moving to another hideout. We took out the garrison at the plasma refinery but they’ve dropped in more AATs. The Fountain of the Founders has been destroyed.  _

_ If I don’t make it, please know that I-“ _

  * _Message from civilian contact Halleth Averna to Royal Handmaiden Sabé Vena_



 

-

* * *

 

Sometimes, I question my own decision making skills. 

However, as I lie back and stare at the three moons hovering in the Tatooine sky, I feel too peaceful to consider how dangerous it is that I snuck out again. This alone time is helping me to stay sane. 

Also, being back in Handmaiden robes is a plus. 

The rest of the day went by uneventfully but I can sense a growing dread as we approach our departure time. Darth Maul, if I remember correctly, has landed on the planet somewhere and he is actively looking for us. I brought my blaster with me this time around, just in case. 

If I focus hard enough, I can barely make out the lights of Mos Espa in the distance, where Padmé is resting safe for the evening. She did manage to contact us this afternoon and sounded in a much better mood than this morning, but her heart is breaking for Shmi Skywalker. Qui-Gon won her son’s freedom but not hers. 

I sit up quickly, an idea forming in my head that I simply can’t ignore. Maybe we can’t free Shmi this time… but what if we track her down after this and buy her freedom then? 

_ What if Shmi is the key to saving Anakin from turning to the dark side?  _

“Ah, I wondered who was hiding out up here.” I jump and nearly slide down the side of the ship when Obi-Wan’s head pops up through the astromech shaft. The rest of him follows shortly afterwards as he jumps through the shaft with ease. “How did you manage to climb up here?” 

Why couldn’t I have been caught by Panaka or one of the pilots? Why did it have to be  _ him? _

The universe must be laughing at me again. 

I pull the pilot’s jacket closer around me ─ yes, I borrowed another one! ─ and clear my throat. “Is it supposed to be difficult?” 

He surprises me once again by taking a seat beside me on my right. “Perhaps to some . ” He crosses his legs and rests the back of his hands on his knees. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Meditating . ” is his easy response. I blink once, twice, before opening my mouth again. 

“Don’t Jedi like to meditate  _ alone _ ?” 

“It does prevent the event of Handmaidens asking questions, yes.” 

My eyes narrow into slits. Fine! If he’s going to invade my quiet time, I’m just going to ignore him. 

We remain silent for quite a while. In fact, I nearly forget his presence as I try to focus on my own peace of mind. It will be unlikely that I can reach the calmness I had previously, especially with thoughts of freeing Shmi swirling in my mind like a cauldron. 

Once we free Naboo from the Federation, maybe we can send agents out this way to find her and free her. We have enough money in the budget, I would imagine, to accomplish this. Kriff, maybe we could come back and free more than just her. Or would that cause a diplomatic incident since this is Hutt territory ─

“You have a lot on your mind.” I glance at Obi-Wan, whose eyes are still closed. I cross my eyes at him from underneath the covering of my hood. 

“I’m not certain what gave you that impression.” His mouth twitches. “I thought meditation involved silence.” 

“You are correct, but someone keeps interrupting me.” 

“ _ I’m interrupting  _ ─” I exhale slowly before I let my Kaadarian accent slip through, along with a plethora of impolite words. “I see what you’re doing.” 

“Pray tell . ” His eyes are open now, sparkling with a challenge I will refuse to meet. I am calm. I am mature. “Or would you like to make another face at me?” 

_ I am not mature. _ “Is this a Jedi trait? Antagonizing defenseless Handmaidens?” 

“Why do you ask? I see no defenseless Handmaidens here.”

_ Ooo _ how I’d like to put him in his place, with a blunt object to the skull. Or, failing that, drop kicking him off the ship… “I will take that as a compliment.” 

He smiles. “It was intended as one.” 

I shake my head in exasperation as his eyes close once more. If I’d known I’d be discovered up here by perpetually difficult Jedi, I would’ve stayed in the chamber. At least my blood pressure would’ve stayed relatively normal. 

Any agitated thoughts towards Obi-Wan are interrupted by a guttural bellow in the distance. I look over my shoulder and feel the blood drain from my face. 

You’ve got to be kidding me. 

Tusken Raiders, just like last night, but the distance between us and this group is much shorter. In fact, it looks like they’re heading  _ towards us _ . 

Before I can say anything Obi-Wan is on his feet. “You should go inside, Handmaiden.” He ignites his lightsaber as the Tusken Raiders draw closer. I flatten myself against the ship when one fires their rifle at us and a bolt soars over my head. 

Obi-Wan moves into action, jumping the great distance between the ship and the Tusken Raiders. He brings his lightsaber down in an arch, severing the head of a Raider from his shoulders. 

I slide down the side of the ship, wincing at the impact once I land. My ankles are going to feel that later.  I dart behind one of the landing mechanisms and use it as a cover spot. After taking a second to control my breathing, I glance around the side, blaster raised. 

The group of Raiders is much larger than I anticipated. Obi-Wan is handling himself well but there’s no way he can make it out of this without an injury. 

Panaka’s going to kill me. 

I lean out of my cover, take aim with my blaster, and fire. The shot hits a Raider in the chest. He falls to the ground. Another takes his place, firing back at me as I move behind the landing gear again. The fight continues in the same manner. Move, aim, fire, and hide. Move, aim, fire, and hide. The amount of Raiders falling grows. 

As the number of Raiders continues to dwindle, I notice one sneaking up behind Obi-Wan with a gaffi stick. “Behind you!” 

He whirls around, cutting the Raider in half. The others around him begin to panic as Obi-Wan resumes his stance, one arm extended forward while the other hand holds his weapon parallel to the ground. 

I breathe a sigh of relief as the Tusken Raiders return to their bantha and turn in the other direction. The last one Obi-Wan took out must have been their leader. 

Stepping out from behind the landing gear, I wave to Obi-Wan as he walks back toward the ship. “You’re welcome, by the way.” I jump when the ramp begins to open.  _ Kriff!  _ Now everyone is going to know I was outside. 

“You need to get back inside . ” Obi-Wan states and I raise my hands in frustration. 

“How exactly am I supposed to do that!? I might be able to climb up a shaft but ─” I pause in my tirade as a strange pressure surrounds me, followed by a quick change in height. Obi-Wan moves his hand upwards as I ascend towards the top of the ship. 

Huh, so this is what the Force feels like. Why do I have the sudden urge to lose my dinner? 

Once my feet touch the ship the pressure fades. Ignoring the churning in my stomach, I look down at Obi-Wan. He wipes sweat from his forehead and waves in a manner like I did moments ago. “You’re welcome, by the way.” 

Panaka’s voice cuts through the air. “What happened out here!?” 

I take this as my cue to sneak back inside. Once I land inside the astromech bay I place my hand over my mouth. Why do I feel so sick? 

After waiting a few minutes for my stomach to settle, I tiptoe back towards my room. Thankfully, most of the pilots and security force are all outside which makes it easier to return unnoticed. 

My relief fades when I open the door and see an irate Eirtaé waiting for me. “Just where have you been!?” 

I just can’t catch a break, can I? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone else get a laugh out of the dream sequence like I did? Much cackling was had on my part (which begs the question about the state of my sanity) and I hope you enjoyed it too! Does anyone have any theories about what will happen next, or about the hints I placed in this chapter? I'd love to hear them! 
> 
> Thank you all for your kudos and lovely comments. It's always a pleasure to hear from you! Next stop: Coruscant... what could await our intrepid heroes there?


	8. Duck and Roll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to julesley for not only being an amazing editor, but also for understanding my deep emotional concerns after watching the Dark Phoenix. You're the best.

Of all  the  people I’m the most nervous to meet… I didn’t expect it to be Anakin Skywalker. 

Yet here I am, sweating beneath my headdress and trying to appear regal, calm, and collected ; as Master Jinn introduces the boy who is, arguably, the most important figure in the galaxy. Said boy stares back at me with round eyes, mouth slightly open in awe. 

“Your Highness, this is Anakin Skywalker; the boy who ensured our successful departure from Tatooine by winning the Boonta Eve podrace.” 

“Whoa… I’ve never met a real queen before.” 

Oh, little does he know… “And I have never met a real podracer before. I must express that the honor is mine.” I offer a small smile as he looks at his feet bashfully. “Thank you, Anakin Skywalker for your assistance. Naboo owes you a great debt.” 

I can see Padmé smiling from the opposite end of the room. She’s had nothing but wonderful things to say about Ani ever since she returned to the ship. I can’t get over the, frankly,  _ weird _ feeling knowing that the two are destined to fall in love. Granted that won’t happen until ten years from now, but still…

Have I mentioned knowing the future is really kriffing  _ odd _ ?

“Aw, it was nothing.” Anakin says, now scuffing his feet against the floor. I notice Obi-Wan’s eyes crinkling in amusement at the boy’s antics. Maybe he’ll focus his attention on him and leave me and my antics the kriff alone. “I’m just glad I could help.” 

“Well … ” I let some of my amusement show in my tone. “If you consider your recent actions to be  _ nothing _ , I’m curious to see what you consider to be worthy of being called  _ something _ .” 

Anakin blinks at me. “Thanks… I think?” 

Qui-Gon places his hand on Anakin’s shoulder, smiling down at him fondly. “Let us suffice it to say that Anakin has many great things ahead of him.” His expression sobers as he looks at me. “I am certain you have been apprised of the situation that occurred that led to our sudden departure from Tatooine.” 

I fight the grimace as I think of Darth Maul attacking Qui-Gon in efforts to get to the Queen, which for all the Sith knows is me. That’s not a scary thought at all. “You were attacked by an assassin trained in arts similar to those of the Jedi Order. Are you well after this encounter?” 

He looks surprised at my concern, nodding once before crossing his arms in front of him. “I am, Your Highness. Thank you for asking. We will bring the matter of this assassin to the Jedi Council once we reach Coruscant.” 

Part of me wonders how I could discreetly send a message to Yoda without it being traced to me. If only Yané were here with us, she could slice her way into any database. “How much longer shall it be before we arrive?” 

“It should not take longer than two hours, Your Highness. If we may be excused, I would like to speak with my Padawan and Anakin about our upcoming meeting with the Jedi Council.” 

“Certainly, Master Jinn . ” He inclines his head respectfully towards me as Anakin bows wobbly, kneeling too far to the left before righting himself. I smile at him encouragingly as he leaves the chamber. Obi-Wan files out after them, making a point to say goodbye to all of the Handmaidens and specifically calling Padmé by name, which only serves to send my blood pressure soaring through the roof. 

It’s no wonder Anakin causes so much mischief when he has a future Master who is the definition of a buttinski…

It’s also hard to reconcile the small, blue-eyed, sandy-haired boy with the evil Sith lord he is supposed to become. It’s not as if I can see a Vader-shaped shadow following him around. He even has freckles across his nose, for the galaxy’s sake. He couldn’t be more adorable if he tried. 

“He is just so  _ cute _ !” Rabé squeals from behind me. “I just want to hug him, Padmé!” 

“Maybe he doesn’t like hugs . ” Eirtaé replies, ever defensive of her less-than-affectionate ways. 

“Not everyone is as special as you.” I turn toward her and grin. “But we love you anyways, Eirtaé.” 

“Loving me and my ways is written in the Handmaiden contract, right along with desensitizing your ears to swearing in multiple languages.” She fires back at me, a smirk on her face. It didn’t take her long to forgive me for sneaking out again, but only after I promised to tell Padmé what happened. 

Funnily enough, when I did tell her, she only shook her head and muttered something along the lines of, “ _ Oh, Sabé, you just can’t stay out of trouble, can you _ ?” 

I didn’t know whether or not I should be offended. 

“Ha! You haven’t even heard the worst yet─” 

“ _ Moving on _ _. _ ” Padmé interjects smoothly, shaking her head at our bickering. “We are supposed to be received by Senator Palpatine . ” She ignores the face I make at the mention of the man’s name. “ _ And _ Supreme Chancellor Valorum… we need to rehearse what you will say, Sabé.” 

I slump down in the throne, stopping my hand before I drag it down my face and ruin the work Rabé did on my makeup. “Are you sure we can’t just pull the switch now? That would make our lives so much easier.” 

“And how exactly would you explain my sudden disappearance, hmm?” 

“... Have I mentioned I hate it when you’re right?” 

Padmé grins at me. “You must hate me all the time then.” 

I stick my tongue out at her, which causes the rest of them to burst into laughter. My scowl only lasts for a few seconds before I find myself joining in with them. 

Somehow, I think we needed that laugh. 

* * *

 

I can do this. I can do this.  _ I can do this _ . 

It’s just an encounter with the  _ leader of the Galactic Republic _ . I could do this in my sleep! 

Actually… no, considering how strange my dreams are ─ Tap dancing and bad poetry aside ─ I should renounce that last statement. 

I feel a burst of climate-controlled air as the loading ramp lowers onto our landing platform. Being surrounded by Jedi, pilots, a Gungan, the Chosen One, Handmaidens, and Captain Panaka should give me a sense of relief but in all honesty, I feel like I might be sick. 

The feeling in my stomach only worsens when I see Palpatine leading the greeting committee. Supreme Chancellor Valorum stands at his side as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan bow respectfully to him. The latter sends me an indecipherable look as he moves to let me pass. 

I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. 

“It is a great gift to see you alive, Your Majesty.” Palpatine says to me, a genial smile on his face. “With the communications breakdown, we’ve been very concerned.”  _ Oh, I’m just so sure you have been. _ “I’m anxious to hear your report on the situation.” He turns to his right. “May I present Supreme Chancellor Valorum?” 

I look at the man Palpatine has just introduced and feel a slight jab of pity for him. I don’t know much about Valorum and his politics, beyond the fact that his actions on the side have given Palpatine enough room to undermine him over the years. “Welcome, Your Highness. It’s an honor to finally meet you in person.” 

I respond with the words Padmé and I agreed will be my general statement for the foreseeable future. “Thank you, Supreme Chancellor.” I catch Anakin looking up at me in my peripheral vision. I wish I could smile at him. 

“I must relay to you how distressed everyone is over the current situation. I’ve called for a special session of the senate to hear your position.” 

Turning towards Valorum, I stop and meet his gaze. “I’m grateful for your concern, Chancellor.” 

He remains behind with the Jedi as we move forward. I resist the urge to cringe as Palpatine croons in my ear. “There is a question of procedure, but I’m confident we can overcome it.” 

I continue to move forward without deigning his remark with a reply. An idea ─ a rebellious one at that ─ forms in my mind as he moves to assist me into the transport waiting for us. As I go to thank him, I notice his eyes narrowing suspiciously on my face. He glances over his shoulder in Padmé’s direction and my stomach sinks into my feet. 

He knows. 

Kriffing Force-Sensitives…

“Ani, come on,” Padmé urges Anakin to follow us and he takes a seat in the front by Jar Jar. 

Unfortunately, this leads me to being sat across from Palpatine with Panaka, Padmé, and Rabé on my left, and Eirtaé on my right. Any trace of suspicion has disappeared from his face but I tap my hand on my right knee to signal,  _ ‘Danger.’ _

“The queen’s a bein’ grossly nice, mesa tinks.” Jar Jar’s voice carries over to us. “Pity hot.” 

I never understood what the last part of that statement meant, even after watching  _ The Phantom Menace _ multiple times. 

Despite the weight of suspicion that hovers in the transport, I try to focus on the towering spires around us and multiple skylanes filled with heavy traffic. Coruscant couldn’t be any different from Naboo if it tried. I find myself missing the sound of roaring waterfalls and wind flowing through the trees in comparison to engines burning and honking at multiple intervals. 

It is a long journey to Palpatine’s apartment in 500 Republica. 

* * *

 

I’ve never changed more quickly in my life. 

“Sabé, can you find the beaded cap!?” Rabé asks, rushing around with her arms full of intricately embroidered robes to drape Padmé in. “I think it’s in the smaller container.” 

I am currently face first in said container, digging around through various hair implements and swearing when I stab my finger on the edge of a pair of scissors. “Kriff! Who packed this thing anyways!? It’s a hazard!” 

“We didn’t exactly have time to organize it.” Eirtaé snaps back, hurriedly painting Padmé’s face. She nearly stabs her in the eye with her index finger. “Sorry, Padmé.” 

“It’s alright,” 

I let out a triumphant sound when my fingers curl around the beaded cap. My smile falls when I see the strands have become tangled. “Oh for crying out loud… ” My grumbled cursing is ignored as I work on untangling the strands. 

“Are you almost finished?” Rabé asks as I finally manage to work the last strands into a semblance of order. 

“Here you go.” I run over to her and hold the longer ends as she places it over Padmé’s braided hair. An ornate, fan headdress follows as she wraps the beaded strands around the base to hold it securely. I look at the Queen and grin. “It’s a good thing you’re not claustrophobic.” 

“Would it matter if I was?” 

“Hmm… probably not . ” 

Rabé and Eirtaé step back to admire their work while I wrap Padmé’s waist in a crème colored ribbon. She lifts her arms obligingly as I begin tying it behind her. 

“Regal and delicate, yet commanding… I think this will be excellent for the meeting with the Senator.” 

“We do good work, Rabé . ” I narrow my eyes at them from over Padmé’s shoulder. 

“What am I, chopped goober fish?” 

“ _ That _ would explain the smell.” 

“You’re hilarious, Eirtaé . ” I reply, deadpan. They all giggle at me as I take a survey of the room. “Have you noticed that Palpatine has an obsession with the color red?” 

The other girls observe the red walls, drapes, furniture, and carpeting in a slightly concerned manner. “It is… somewhat overpowering . ” Padmé offers. “Some find the color to be strengthening.” 

“And some are psychotic.” 

Before she can reply, Panaka steps into the chamber. “Your Highness, Senator Palpatine is waiting for you.” 

“Thank you, Captain. We are ready to speak with him.” 

He then turns to me, raising an eyebrow at my greasy, flattened hair, and partially scrubbed off makeup. “It would be best if you remain behind, Sabé.” 

“Aww, you mean I can’t decoy as Padmé instead of the Queen?” I snap my fingers in mock defeat. He shakes his head as the others depart the room. 

“Try to stay out of sight.” He orders as he leaves me behind. I take a look at the scattered clothing, and upturned wardrobe and accessory containers and sigh heavily.

How did we manage to make such a mess in a short amount of time? 

After I’ve sufficiently picked up all of our belongings and returned them to their proper place, I attempt to wash the rest of my makeup off. Seeing my true face in the mirror is oddly comforting, though I notice a few bumps on my chin that weren’t there before.  _ Lovely. _

As I braid my hair back, the doors to the chamber slide open. Padmé walks in swiftly, her hands clutched in fists at her sides. Eirtaé and Rabé file in quietly behind her.“I am growing sick and tired of dealing with bureaucrats.” 

“What happened?” I ask, watching her pace the floor. The beaded strands around her face move wildly as she throws her hands up. 

“Senator Palpatine believes that Chancellor Valorum, our strongest supporter, will do nothing to assist us. He suggested a vote of no confidence in the man’s leadership or the plight of our home will be forced into a committee ─ which will take months at  _ minimum _ before a decision will be made.” 

“It makes some political sense . ” Eirtaé states. “It would be considered a bold move on your part if you were to call for a vote of no confidence. The other delegates would have to take you and your position seriously.” 

“All that will do is throw the Senate into chaos and we’ll be left with nothing . ” I argue back. Finally, I have a chance to use the idea I had earlier. If I can convince Padmé to not call for the vote, it would be one hydrospanner thrown in Palpatine’s schemes. “The Trade Federation doesn’t expect you to come to the hearing in such a way. If we play into their expectations that we’re more easily defeated, they wouldn’t see us coming if we take our home back in a show of force.” 

Padmé stops pacing and fixes her gaze on me. I’ve only been on the receiving end of her fiercest glares a few times. I won’t lie and say it isn’t intimidating. “Sabé, if you’re suggesting that the only way to take back our home is by force, then what is the point of attending the Senate hearing at all?” 

“Think about it, Padmé. If the Trade Federation delegates believe that you are defeated by the lack of support from the Senate, they will be caught unawares when we return in a strong manner. Besides, if you were to call for a vote of no confidence,  _ who _ will benefit the most from it?” I point towards the main chamber. “If Senator Palpatine doesn’t have individuals ready to put his name forward, I’ll eat the headdress I just wore for days on end.” 

“Not your theories again . ” Eirtaé shakes her head. “Senator Palpatine has been nothing but supportive.” 

“Of course he has. He’d look like a kriffing moron if he couldn’t properly represent his home.” I cross my arms. “In the long game, he’ll be the one to benefit the most.” 

“Be that as it may, I have little options to work with.” Padmé sits on the couch, her shoulders slumped. I join her at her side. “… Did you sincerely just offer to eat a headdress?” 

“I was trying to make a point!” 

Rabé clears her throat in effort to cut through the tension. “Perhaps we should focus on preparing your outfit for the upcoming session, Padmé? Vote or no vote, we are going to make sure you look your very best.” I smile despite myself. 

Rabé and her priorities… 

* * *

 

Hours later, after deliberating back and forth on the perfect outfit for Padmé to wear and a change of robes for us Handmaidens, I find myself holding an option in each hand for her to wear as a topcoat. Rabé stands on the other side of the chamber, eyeing both of them. 

“What about this one?” I lift up my left hand. 

“No, that color is too cheerful for a debate about an invasion.” 

“Fine, what about this?” I lift my right hand. 

“That one is too shiny. The lights in the Senate will reflect off of it and draw attention away from her face.” 

“The giant headdress is already doing that!” I gesture to the towering piece we wrapped Padmé’s hair in, where two thick sections hang on each side to frame her face. We all turn as a beeping sound emits from one of our comlinks. 

“Who is it?” Rabé asks. 

“The boy’s here to see Padmé.” 

“Let him in.” My eyes go wide and I fling the coats at Eirtaé, who squawks in protest. Just as Anakin enters the room I drop to the ground and roll to the corner. Unfortunately, this causes me to knock my elbow against the wall and I curse under my breath. 

“I’m sorry, Ani, but Padmé’s not here right now.” Rabé says while Eirtaé shoots me an incredulous look. I motion for her to keep quiet, praying that Anakin won’t walk any further into the room and discover me. 

“Who is it?” Padmé steps forward, regal tone fully in use. 

“Anakin Skywalker, to see Padmé, Your Highness . ” 

The Queen turns to him. “I’ve sent Padmé on an errand.” 

Kriff, my elbow is throbbing now. That’s going to be a nasty bruise. 

“I’m on my way to the Jedi Temple to start my training, I hope. I may never see her again, so I came to say good-bye.” 

“We will tell her for you. We are sure her heart goes with you.” Despite it all, I can hear the sadness in her tone. If I didn’t know we’ll be seeing Anakin again in the very near future, my heart would melt even further than it already has. 

“Thank you, Your Highness.” 

I breathe a sigh of relief when the doors open and close. The three of them stare at me as I stand up, dusting off my robes. 

“What was that all about?” Eirtaé flings the coats back at me and I dash forward to catch them. 

“The guard said he was here to see Padmé, and there are three Handmaidens here along with the Queen. Don’t you think he’d be a  _ little  _ suspicious if she isn’t one of them, unless we can somehow explain why a new Handmaiden is here?” 

Their eyes widen in realization while I rub my elbow and scowl. “I wonder where I can get some ice around here… ”

“That was quick thinking, Sabé.” I pause at the slight catch in Padmé’s voice. She presses her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry─I just hate that I couldn’t properly say goodbye to Ani.” 

“Why don’t you send him a message?” Rabé points to the terminal by one of the wardrobe containers. “Even if it’s not in person, he will probably appreciate something written personally by you.” 

“That is an excellent idea.” She moves to the terminal to type out a quick message. As soon as she hits send, the doors open to reveal Panaka. I breathe a sigh of relief that I didn’t have to duck and roll once again. 

“It is time for us to depart for the hearing, Your Highness.” 

“Thank you, Captain Panaka. We are ready to leave.” I place a hand on Padmé’s shoulder and offer her an encouraging smile. 

“Good luck. I know you’ll make the right choice.” 

She smiles briefly as they move to leave. Once again, I am left alone in the chamber with another room full of belongings to clean up. 

Oh well, at least I can finally check my messages once I’m done. 

* * *

 

**From SVRHM@RNSF to meangreenmachine@averna 0312 GST** **Subject: [no subject]**

_ Halleth Averna, don’t you dare get yourself hurt before I return home.  _

_ I’m coming back soon. Just hold on a little longer.  _

_ XOXO SV, proud older sister of a rebel. _

* * *

 

I can barely see through my tears as I bring up the feed from the Senate hearing on the terminal. After reading Halleth’s messages… I haven’t been able to stop crying. 

Wiping angrily at my eyes, I watch as the recorder droids circle the Naboo pod, focusing on Padmé’s determined and stalwart expression. 

_ “The chair recognizes the senator from the sovereign system of Naboo.”  _

_ “Supreme Chancellor, delegates of the Senate _ _. _ _ ”  _ Hatred boils up inside me at Palpatine’s voice.  _ He’s _ the cause behind all of this.  _ He’s _ the one that put my sister in danger. “ _ A tragedy has occurred, which started right here with the taxation of trade routes and has now engulfed our entire planet in the oppression of the Trade Federation.”  _

A beeping at the door causes me to turn away from the terminal just as the Federation delegates begin arguing back. “Whoever is here has the kriffing worst timing.” 

I school my expression into neutrality as I press the keypad to open the door. If I hadn’t had such rigorous training, my eyes would’ve bugged out of my head at the sight of the Muun across from me, with a transpirator affixed to the lower half of his face. 

“Where is the boy?” His mechanical voice freezes me in place. 

Darth Plagueis…

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun-dun-DUN! (Please don't kill me for the ending... ) 
> 
> What will happen next with Sabé and Darth Plagueis interacting? Only time will tell... Also, fun fact, I picture her Kaadarian accent sounding Australian. In case you were wondering! 
> 
> Thank you all for your kudos and lovely comments. I enjoy getting to talk to each one of you and I'm so thrilled you're enjoying Sabé's adventures. <3 The next chapter should be up this weekend!


	9. Force Allergies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to julesley for being a wonderful and patient editor, especially with Jar Jar's dialogue. That was tough.

I fully believe that there should be a limit of how many Sith Lords I can encounter in a twenty-four hour period.

Honestly, I’ve come across two too many and both are sufficiently terrifying and sinister on their own. Do I have some sort of sign on my head that reads: “All Sith Lords welcome”?

“Where is the boy!?” Darth Plagueis repeats and I can’t help the shiver that runs down my spine. I wish this universe still relied on hinged doors. At least I could partially hide behind one if that were the case.

“You seem to be mistaken, sir, I know not of whom you speak.” My voice shakes as his orange-yellow tinted eyes narrow on me. “If you are searching for Senator Palpatine, he will return after the Senate hearing.” He lifts his hand, turning it ever so slightly. When he speaks his voice sounds deeper, with an echo behind it.

“ _You will tell me where the boy is.”_

A sensation, like pressure against my temples, begins to take over. It blurs my vision and turns my stomach. _Obey… obey… obey…_

But no matter how strong the pressure is, I am fully aware of what is going on. He’s trying to mind-trick me. Oh shavit.

_Obey… obey… obey…_

I swallow the lump in my throat and feign a monotone. “I will tell you where the boy is.”

“We shall try this again: where is the boy?” He waves his hand again and the pressure increases. My ears feel like they’re ringing.

“He…“ I feel myself beginning to sweat. I’m about to lie to a Sith Lord. I thought my second life would at least be longer than the first. “…went with Master Qui-Gon. I don’t know where.”

Plagueis curses vehemently, his head whipping to the right at the sound of a door opening. For the final time, he waves his hand. “ _You will forget this encounter._ ”

Not kriffing likely. “I will forget this encounter.”

In a burst of supernatural speed, he disappears down the hall just as Jar Jar emerges from the central chamber. He looks at me as I lean, heaving against the doorframe and scratches his head. “Um, are-a yousa okeeday Missa Handmaiden?”

I cover my mouth with my hand as a wave of nausea upsets my stomach. I dart past him to the ‘fresher and heave the contents of my lunch. By the time I am finished, I lay on the ground and groan miserably.

“Missa Handmaiden!? Do yousa need help!?”

Slowly, I turn my head towards Jar Jar and offer a weak smile. “You don’t happen to have any biscuits, do you?”

“Oh! Mesa be lookin’ for dem for you, okeeday?”

He runs down the hallway and a crashing noise follows soon after. I push myself up from the ground, wearily grabbing the counter to pull myself upwards. When I see my reflection, I realize I’ve turned a lovely shade of greenish-gray; quite similar to Lot Dodd actually.

The reality of what has just occurred hits me like a ton of permacrete. I just encountered Darth Plagueis and survived. He attempted mind-tricks on me and they failed. The last time I felt sick like this was when Obi-Wan used the Force on m─ oh for kark’s sake.

I think the Force hates me; or I’m somehow allergic.

I don’t know which is worse.

* * *

 

After a quick hydro-shower and a biscuit served by an eager-to-please Jar Jar Binks, I run back to the terminal in the temporary Royal Chambers and begin typing out another message. How did Yané say I could prevent a message from being tracked!? I wish I would’ve paid closer attention.

My typing comes to a halt when I pull up the feed from the Senate hearing once more. As I watch and hear arguments breaking out across the amphitheater, my heart begins to sink. Padmé must’ve given in to Palpatine’s wishes and initiated the vote of no confidence.

In essence: my plan failed.

This feeling of failure, mixed with the lingering queasiness from the Plagueis debacle and the worry over Halleth, is enough to make me walk over to the wall, turn my back to it, and slide down to the floor. I press my forehead to my knees and wrap my arms around my legs.

I’m not going to be able to change anything, am I? My presence here is pointless. It’ll be like watching a car crash in slow motion while everything I love is ruined.

“Missa Handmaiden?” I look up, seeing Jar Jar hovering in the doorway. “Would yousa like another biscuit?”

His hopeful smile begins to crack through the misery I’d begun to wallow in. I haven’t had much chance to interact with Jar Jar, however, he has always been kind whether I’ve been dressed as a Queen or as myself.

“That’s kind of you, Mr. Binks, but I don’t have much of an appetite.”

He hesitates for a moment before entering the room. “If you’re still a-feelin’ sicken, I canna help yousa!”

I shake my head. “Thank you, but I don’t think you can help me with what I’m dealing with.”

“Oh…“ he trails off sadly. To my surprise, he joins me on the floor. We make an odd pair, a towering Gungan next to a depressed, curled-up Handmaiden. “Is it because yousa miss home, too?”

“That’s part of it, yes.”

“Well… don’t-a give uppa yet! Wesa still have time to get back, maybe even without-a gettin’ crunched.”

Despite myself, a giggle escapes me. “No, I would like to avoid being crunched, if possible.”

“So-a, issa gonna’ be okeeday.” He smiles widely at me. “De Queen’s gotten a plan, mesa tinks.”

“For your sake and mine, I hope you’re right, Mr. Binks.”

He shakes his head. “No-no-no, mesa called Jar Jar Binks, not _Meester Binks_. What issa your name?”

Maybe it’s because of stress, or exhaustion, or the fact that his friendliness is making me want to cry, but I extend my hand towards him and shake it. “Sabé. You can call me Sabé.”

“It’s nicen to meet yousa, Sabé.”

I sincerely hope this won’t backfire on me.

* * *

 

**From USERUNKNOWN to qgjinn@templeint; owkenobi@templeint 0349 GST Subject: [Encoded 95683]**

_“Master Jinn and Padawan Kenobi,_

_The boy, Anakin Skywalker, is in danger. Individuals capable of great evil are searching for him. Please utilize all caution and keep him safe. May the Force be with you._

_Sincerely,_

_A Friend”_

-          Data message sent from unknown source to Jedi Temple user interface

* * *

 

It feels like days have passed by the time Padmé returns to the apartment. We rush to change her out of her outfit into something easier to move around in. She is unusually quiet, though she does breathe a sigh of relief when we remove the ornate headdress from atop her head.

“So…“ I begin hesitantly. “How was the hearing?”

“It was pointless.” Padmé states, with a bite to her tone that is unmistakable. “Between the likes of the Trade Federation and Mas Amedda, we didn’t stand a chance of receiving help.”

I wince as Rabé combs through her now tangled hair. “I’m sorry. I can understand why you called for the vote.”

Padmé’s brow furrows. “What are you talking about?”

Is she so upset that she’s forcing her memory of the hearing away? “I missed part of the hearing, but I saw that the vote of no confidence was called for.”

Eirtaé hands me a heavy, velvet overcoat to drape over Padmé’s shoulders before asking: “Sabé, exactly how much of the hearing did you actually watch?”

“Well… I caught the beginning and the very end?” I answer quietly, wishing I could explain the reason _why_ I missed so much of it.

Have I mentioned I hate Sith Lords?

“So you basically missed everything.” Rabé shakes her head. “Oh Sabé…“

“I didn’t mean to!” My voice rises in pitch. “Trust me, I would’ve much rather watched the hearing than deal with─” I stop myself before a particular name spills out. “─um, I was hungry… very, very hungry.”

The three of them roll their eyes in unison before Padmé continues. “I didn’t call for the vote, Sabé.”

I blink once. “I’m sorry, but did you just say you didn’t call for the vote?” I point to the terminal in confusion. “But, on the feed it said that the vote was called for!”

“Yes, but it wasn’t me.” Padmé sighs. “It was like I had your voice in my head, warning me not to do it. The Senator from Eriadu called for the vote.”

Hope begins to surge within me. Holy shavit… Padmé listened. _Padmé_ listened.

_Things can be changed! Padmé isn’t under Palpatine’s thumb!_

Hold up… Eriadu? Why does that name sound so familiar…

Padmé continues on, despite my wondering. “Senator Palpatine seemed disappointed that I didn’t follow his advice. You would’ve been thrilled.”

“Huh, it’s as if you think I don’t like him.”

She huffs out a laugh. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Ridiculously charming, I know.” I smile brightly at her. “Now hold still or this headdress is going to fall off and stars, that would be such a tragedy.”

To my surprise, Rabé asks to stay behind instead of going to the next meeting with Palpatine. I actually get to leave the room! I get to function as a typical Royal Handmaiden in the company of others, what a novel concept!

Eirtaé and I follow two steps behind Padmé as we enter Palpatine’s office. Jar Jar waits inside, waving at us in greeting. I acknowledge him with a nod and a small smile as I take up my post at the entrance. Eirtaé stands on the opposite side, quietly observing as the Queen watches the sun setting in the distance.

She remains like this for a long while, just as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. Jar Jar slowly approaches her. “Yousa tinking yousa people gonna’ die?”

“I don’t know.”

“Gungans get pasted too, eh?”

I’m beginning to wonder if Jar Jar is trying to comfort her as well, even if in a slightly backwards manner.

“I hope not.”

“Gungans no dyin’ without a fight, wesa warriors. Wesa got a grand army.” He leans forward towards her. “Dat’s why you no liken us, mesa tinks.”

After having met Jar Jar Binks, it makes me think on the long standing enmity between the Naboo and the Gungans. It’s amazing how horrible things like invasions and war can bring people together.

“Your Highness?” Panaka enters the room, somewhat excitedly I might add. “Your Highness.” He bows, a smile on his face. Huh, he doesn’t even seem to care that I’m here instead of Rabé. “Senator Palpatine has been nominated to succeed Valorum as Supreme Chancellor.”

Padmé fixes her gaze on Palpatine as he says: “A surprise, to be sure, but a welcome one.” She turns away from him as he opens his mouth. “Your Majesty, if I am elected, I promise to put an end to corruption.”

Oh, I’m _so sure_ he will.

“Who else has been nominated?” She asks, and Panaka the ever-faithful-Palpatine-fan answers.

“Bail Antilles of Alderaan and Ainlee Teem of Malastare.”

“I feel confident our situation will create a strong sympathy vote for us.” Palpatine sits down and his next words are said so triumphantly that it makes me sick. “I will be chancellor.”

“I fear by the time you have control of the bureaucrats, Senator, there’ll be nothing left of our people, our way of life.” Yes, Padmé. Put him in his place.

“I understand your concern, Your Majesty.” I shoot Eirtaé a glance and she shakes her head in response. “Unfortunately, the Federation has possession of our planet.”

“Senator, this is your arena. I feel I must return to mine.” Padmé turns towards the Senator. “I’ve decided to go back to Naboo.”

Kriff. Why couldn’t we just sneak out without telling him instead?

“Go back? But, your Majesty, be realistic.” He rises from his seat in mock alarm. “They’ll force you to sign the treaty.”

“I will sign no treaty, Senator.” She rounds on him. “My fate will be no different than that of our people. Captain.”

“Your Highness.” Panaka answers.

“Ready my ship.”

We all turn to leave even as Palpatine follows after us. “Please, Your Majesty, stay here where it’s safe.”

Padmé turns to him one last time and we follow suit. I resist the urge to smile. “It is clear to me now that the Republic no longer functions. I pray you will bring sanity and compassion back to the Senate.”

I stare him down, committing fully to the internal promise I’ve made to stop him and his plans. I’m thankful for the position of being invisible.

No one pays attention to a Handmaiden.

* * *

 

Never has the sight of a ship been so beautiful to me.

We’re going home! We’re going home! I could sing it from the highest skyscraper!

But I won’t, because that would be somewhat counter-productive.

As we approach the ship, Qui-Gon, Anakin, R2-D2, and Jar Jar wait for us at the loading ramp. Qui-Gon bows to the Queen and says: “Your Majesty, it is our pleasure to continue to serve and protect you.”

“I welcome your help. Senator Palpatine fears that the Federation means to destroy me.”

I glance to my left, beyond Panaka, and see Anakin watching us curiously. I meet his eyes briefly and offer a small smile, which he returns.

“I assure you I will not allow that to happen.” A feel another pang of guilt as Qui-Gon walks with Padmé. Is there a way he can be spared? There has to be something I can do.

As I step onto the ramp, I hear Jar Jar cheering behind me. “Wesa goin’ home!”

“C’mon, Artoo.” Anakin and the droid follow behind us and the loading ramp closes. I breathe a sigh of relief as Padmé moves towards the throne room. Maybe we can actually take off without any incidents this time.

I hear a clattering behind me and glance over my shoulder to see Jar Jar standing in a pile of supply packs. A shelf to his right, that seems to be about shoulder-height for him, swings on one pin. I move back to help him and the Gungan smiles brightly at me.

“Hello dere, Missa Sabé─” My eyes widen as I slap my hand over his mouth. He nearly falls backwards.

“Shhh!” I hold my finger to my lips. “If anyone would’ve heard you, I’d be in big trouble…“ I trail off as I feel prickling on the back of my neck, as if someone is watching me. I crane my neck to see Obi-Wan staring directly at me, eyes narrowed and a victorious smile on his face, just as the doors to the landing bay close.

Kriff.

“I amma so sorry.” Jar Jar apologizes repeatedly as I help him put away the supply packs.

“It’s alright, Jar Jar.” I pat his arm before turning to leave. “Maybe don’t say my name again until once our home is free, okay?”

He nods solemnly. “Yousa can count onna me!”

As I hurry to catch up to Padmé, looking determinedly at the ground as I pass Obi-Wan, and assist the others as she takes the throne. I assume my post by the door, facing her and behind Obi-Wan and Jar Jar, as the others confer with her over her plan to take back Naboo.

The conference turns into more of an odd tag-team effort on Panaka and Qui-Gon’s part after we enter hyperspeed.

“As soon as we land, the Federation will arrest you and force you to sign the treaty.” Not if we have anything to say about it, Panaka. Jar Jar turns back to me and waves.

I really shouldn’t have said my name earlier.

“I agree. I’m not sure what you wish to accomplish by this.” It’s a little ominous whenever Qui-Gon and Panaka agree on something.

“I will take back what’s ours.” She firmly replies.

“There are too few of us, Your Highness. We have no army.” Panaka continues the argument, along with Qui-Gon. Have I mentioned how weird it is that they’re agreeing?

“And I can only protect you. I can’t fight a war for you.”

“Jar Jar Binks.” Padme startles the Gungan, who leans around Obi-Wan and points to himself.

“Mesa, Your Highness?”

“Yes, I need your help.”

We all listen as Padmé reveals her plan to reach out to the Gungans. Jar Jar’s eyes grow wider every second. “Yousa tellin’ me yousa wantin’ to talk to de bosses?”

“If that is the only way, then yes; can you take us to them?”

He scratches the back of his head, right beneath his ear flaps. “Mesa willing to try, Your Majesty.”

I catch the look Qui-Gon and Panaka share and imagine what it would be like to smack them both upside the head. If they’d stop being so stubborn and listen to Padmé, it would make our lives easier.

As if he can sense my irritation, Obi-Wan glances back at me. I narrow my eyes threateningly, silently _daring_ him to say anything. His mouth twitches before he turns back around.

I’m in so much trouble.

* * *

 

“It is so strange to hear Panaka and Master Jinn in agreement.” Eirtaé states as soon as we enter our chamber.

“ _I know, right_?” She turns to me, one eyebrow raised at my enthusiasm. “What? I can’t have the same feelings about the situation?”

“Maybe not so loudly…“

Padmé sits on one of the beds and sighs. “I know they are doing their best to protect me, but I can no longer sit by and allow the Federation to control our home.” She looks at me, regret evident in her posture. “Will you be willing to disguise yourself again, Sabé?”

Knowing how difficult it is for her to even ask this, I force a bright smile on my face. “You know, I was just beginning to miss a headdress. I think it fits my personality well, don’t you?”

“Well, this one will be much easier to deal with and…“ Rabé reaches into a wardrobe container and removes a red and black ensemble. “You won’t have any long skirts this time.”

“No more kick-step?” I ask hopefully.

“Only if you want to.”

“While I may have mastered the art, I will refrain to make sure no one feels inadequate in my presence.” This time, instead of an eye roll, they laugh before beginning the switching process once again.

As Padmé removes her makeup with a wipe, she meets my gaze in the vanity mirror. “We need a signal if I need to come forward to speak with the Gungan leadership.”

I wince when Rabé yanks at a knot in my hair before saying: “You can’t be serious, Padmé. It would be far too dangerous to do so.” She resumes brushing out my hair as if she hadn’t just assaulted my scalp.

“I agree. Jar Jar Binks may be…” Eirtaé hesitates, “…an ally, but that doesn’t mean his leadership will feel the same way.”

“If it means our people will be closer to being free, I am willing to do anything.”

I try to lighten the mood once again. “Is this a dig at my diplomatic skills? I’m offended.”

“Sabé, I have complete faith in you. I just think we should be prepared for any circumstance should it arise.”

I raise an eyebrow at her. “By that you mean; you’re planning on doing this anyway and you wanted to warn us ahead of time so we will all take the fall when Panaka reams us?”

Padmé is silent for a moment, suddenly refusing to meet my eyes. “Would I do such a thing?”

“Yes.” We respond in unison.

She huffs and begins pulling her hair into a bun, until Eirtaé walks over and begins helping her. The conversation turns away from discussions of negotiations until we begin musing on what we’ll do in the future.

“I think I’ll look into working at a salon.” Rabé says as she wraps my hair around my new, much-easier-to-manage, headdress. “After all this experience I’ve had, I might even be able to work at the Elite Salon in Theed, or train future Handmaidens?”

As we affirm that she would be an amazing stylist, likely sought out from across the galaxy, Eirtaé begins laying out her plans: “My family wants me to continue my career in the political field… but I’m not going to do it.” She shrugs at my look of surprise. “I might be good at it but I don’t like it at all. I only ran against you, Padmé, because it was my family’s wish. You were definitely the right choice to lead us all.”

Padmé’s eyes are suspiciously watery before she wipes at them with the back of her hand. “That’s kind of you to say, Eirtaé. What would _you_ like to do?”

She shrugs again. “I haven’t gotten that far, yet. I have time to decide since we all know you’ll be re-elected.”

“Yes, Padmé.” I add. “Thanks for making sure we all have jobs.” She throws a blending sponge at me and I squeak when it hits my face. “Well, that’s just rude. Maybe you _shouldn’t_ be re-elected.”

“What about you, Sabé?” She asks me, smiling. The other two look at me and I’m struck by a sense of panic. I have absolutely _no_ idea as to what I’ll do in the future. If I go by the movies’ standard, I’m not supposed to even be involved with the events of the Clone Wars.

Knowing the future of the galaxy, but not my own, is incredibly unnerving.

“Besides eating my own weight in biscuits and learning another language, I haven’t decided.”

“Maybe you can be a liaison to the Gungans.” Padmé suggests, her smile turning mischievous. “Especially since you’ve already given Jar Jar Binks your name.”

As Eirtaé and Rabé gasp, I offer her my fiercest glare. “I’m _definitely_ not voting for you again.”

The ship shudders once, revealing we’ve dropped from hyperspeed. The heaviness of what we’re about to face begins to sink in.

It’s time to take our home back.

 

 


	10. A Complete Ninny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to julesley for being a bombad editor and for never judging my obsessive behavior demonstrated by taking the enneagram test for the characters. (Sabé's a 2w3, if you were wondering.)

There truly is no place like home. 

As soon as I step outside of the ship I feel much more peaceful ;  despite the oppressive humidity of the swamps and the battles ahead for us. I take a moment and breathe in deeply. 

“Whoa, this place is so wizard… ” I look over my shoulder and smile at Anakin, who is taking in our surroundings with wide-eyed awe. His posture over-corrects, chest slightly puffed out, when he notices my gaze. “I mean, Naboo is very, um─” He struggles for a moment as if he’s searching for the right word. 

“I agree with your assessment, Anakin. Naboo is, ‘wizard,’ indeed.” His face lights up with a smile. 

“Thank you, Your Highness.” He looks at Padmé, who is standing to his right and directly behind me as planned, and nudges her side. “You never told me the Queen was so cool.” 

“Yes, she’s the coolest.” She shares a knowing look with me before we venture further into the swamps. Jar Jar, Panaka, and the Jedi lead the group until we reach an unassuming looking pond. I suppose it makes sense for Otoh Gunga to be seated here for their secrecy. 

We all wait as Jar Jar disappears beneath the surface of the water. I stand aside with Rabé, Eirtaé, Anakin ,  and Padmé as we wait. Most conversations had near us are quiet as we watch the Jedi and Panaka at the shoreline. 

I hear a quick slapping noise and grumbling from beside me. “I should’ve thought to bring insect repellant. These midges are going to eat me alive.” I glance at Rabé, a true city-girl at heart, and place my hand on her shoulder. 

“Even your planning skills couldn’t have foreseen us in a swamp,” I whisper. “Besides, maybe the midges will decide you don’t taste good and leave you alone.” 

“They seem to be doing the exact opposite,” her grumbling continues as she slaps another midge that lands on the back of her hand. 

“We had a lot of sand-fleas back on Tattooine,” Anakin speaks up, having overcome any and all shyness around us. “One time, Watto was attacked by a swarm of them.” 

“What did he do?” Eirtaé questions, tilting her head slightly. 

“Well, the medic gave him thirteen hypo-injections and it knocked him out for a whole day. It was like my birthday came early.” I cover my laugh with a cough. 

“How unfortunate for him…” 

We all quiet down as Jar Jar emerges from the pond, shaking off the excess water and slipping once as he steps towards Panaka and the Jedi. I lean forward, trying to catch their conversation. 

“Desa nobody dare. The Gungan city is deserted. Some kinda’ fight, mesa tinks.” 

“Do you think they’ve been taken to the camps?” Obi-Wan asks. 

“More likely they were wiped out.” Panaka answers. 

I turn to Padmé and whisper: “When this is over with, are you going to award Panaka with the Medal of Positivity?” 

Her lips press together as if she’s fighting a smile. 

“Do you know where they are, Jar Jar?” Qui-Gon’s voice carries much further than the others. If I have the opportunity, I’ll thank him for his projection skills. It’s much easier to eavesdrop on him. 

“When in trouble, Gungans go to sacred place. Mesa show you, come on! Mesa show you.” 

Rabé groans as we begin following Jar Jar further into the swamps. “Just when I thought this was almost over… ”

Eirtaé lightly nudges her forward. “The sooner you move, the sooner it will be.” 

“I suppose you’re right,” Rabé sighs when her boots make a squelching sound. The mud around here is no joke. “It’s not as if it can get much worse.” 

Somehow, I think she’ll come to regret those words.

* * *

 

You know what’s fun? Exchanging stories with your friends as you walk through a swamp towards uncertain diplomatic relations between two societies fraught with tension. 

You know what’s not fun? Nearly getting stabbed with an electropole wielded by an individual of one of those societies fraught with tension…

“Yousa be goin’ no further!” I freeze as a Gungan glares down at us, holding the business end of his weapon inches away from my nose. Who decided to put the decoy in the front? I want a name! 

“No-no-no! Captain Tarpals!” Jar Jar darts forward. “Wesa comin’ here in peace. De Queen Amidala wants to speak with de Bosses.” 

The Captain and his kaadu move backwards, bringing the less-than-appealing spike away from my face. I breathe a sigh of relief as he gestures with his arm. “Yousa droppin’ all your weapons now.” 

After we are thoroughly searched, and all of our weapons are set aside, we are escorted into a heavily shaded area of the swamp. Ruins of their ancient society are visible with toppled statues overgrown by moss and vines. It reminds me that the Naboo were not the first inhabitants of our planet. 

“Your Honor!” Captain Tarpals introduces us as we file in determinedly. “Queen Amidala of the Naboo.” 

I swallow the lump in my throat as we approach the assembly of Gungans. I swear if Padmé doesn’t follow my signal ─ which we decided would be me tapping my right leg with my hand three times ─ I will kill her myself. 

“Uh,” Jar Jar greets hesitantly. “Hello dere Big Boss Nass, Your Honor.” 

“Jar Jar Binks,” Boss Nass’s voice puts Qui-Gon’s projection skills to shame. Maybe I should compliment him, too? “Who’s da usen others?” 

“I am Queen Amidala of the Naboo,” My voice deepens as I channel every bit of the lessons I’ve endured as Padmé’s decoy. “I come before you in peace.” 

“Ah, Naboo biggen.” Well, kriff. He seems just as unconvinced as he did in the movie. “Yousa bringen da Mackineeks. Yousa all bombad.” 

I begin lifting my hand to signal Padmé. “We have searched you out because we wish to form an alliance.” 

“Your Honor,” I stare at her as she moves past me. For the galaxy’s sake, she couldn’t wait three seconds for me to finish the signal!? This is how plans go bad and people get their heads blasted off. 

Boss Nass narrows his eyes at her in scrutiny and lifts his hands. “Whosa dis?” 

“I am Queen Amidala.” I attempt to remain calm as murmuring breaks out in the crowds around us, multiple pairs of eyes moving between Padmé and me. “This is my decoy, my protection, my loyal bodyguard.” Her expression is apologetic when she looks at me before turning back to Boss Nass. I can feel Anakin ’s confusion as he stares up at me. 

I never thought having my cover blown would feel like such a relief. 

“I’m sorry for my deception, but it was necessary to protect myself.” I stand back and listen as Padmé shows exactly why she was chosen to lead us. Despite my aggravation with her, I can’t help but admire her determination. “Although we do not always agree, Your Honor, our two great societies have always lived in peace.” 

Boss Nass listens as she continues on: “The Trade Federation has destroyed all that we have worked so hard to build. If we do not act quickly, all will be lost forever. I ask you to help us.” She lowers to her knees. “No, I beg you to help us. We are your humble servants.” 

We all follow suit, though I can imagine Rabé’s displeasure at getting more mud on her outfit. “Our fate is in your hands.” 

“Mmm,” Boss Nass rubs his chin thoughtfully. The air is thick with tension as we wait for his response. The Gungans around us look back and forth between themselves until he begins laughing uproariously. “Yousa no tinken yousa greater den da Gungans? Mesa like-a dis.” 

My shoulders relax as his grin, somehow, grows even wider. “Maybe wesa… being friends.” 

The area begins to fill with cheer s ; Naboo and Gungan alike, and we rise to our feet. Padmé turns around and I reach out to hug her, and then step back and hold up three fingers. She winces. 

“Sabé… ”

“Three seconds, Padmé.” For the first time, I let my Kaadarian accent loose while dressed as the Queen. “You couldn’t wait three seconds for me to signal you!?” 

“I’m very sorry! It seemed, despite your excellent performance as me, that I needed to step forward immediately─” 

“Three. Seconds.” 

The crowd of the Naboo and Gungans begin to intertwine, many greeting each other as if they are long-lost friends. Boss Nass and the other leaders move to approach Padmé. She, once again, looks at me in apology. “We’ll talk later, I promise.” 

“Oh, we  _ definitely _ will.” I respond as I move back, accidentally bumping into Jar Jar in the process. 

“Mesa sorry, Your…” He scratches his head. “Whosa are yousa supposed to be if yousa not de Queen?” 

“You’ve forgotten me already, Jar Jar? I see how it is.” As I grin at him, his eyes widen comically. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stand beside him, watching the exchange curiously. 

“Missa  _ Sabé _ ? Is dat yousa?” 

“Yes,” Eirtaé steps forward, smiling brightly. Rabé follows after her. “This is Sabé; our foul-mouthed, biscuit-eating, Kaadarian that we love dearly.” 

“I don’t eat  _ that _ many biscuits,” My fellow Handmaidens stare blankly at me, while the others near us listen with amused smiles. “Sometimes I change things up and eat sticky buns instead.” 

“Notice how she doesn’t argue the swearing point,” Eirtaé says, causing my expression to flatten while Rabé giggles. Anakin scrutinizes me, leaning slightly forward. 

“Have you been decoying as the Queen this whole time?” 

“Oh, Stars no.” I point to my headdress. “Could you imagine being stuck with  _ this _ all the time? Padmé and I switched back and forth when we needed to.” 

As Anakin nods understandingly, Qui-Gon joins the conversation. “There is something to be said about those who are willing to risk their lives for their leaders. Each of you Handmaidens have shown excellent strength of character during these circumstances, especially you.” He nods to me and I feel my face turning red. 

Being a Handmaiden is a rather thankless job, though I love it with all of my being. Padmé has always been kind to acknowledge us but to have my efforts noticed by someone outside of our circle? It’s… nice. 

“And,” he continues on, “I assume your name is Sabé.” I nod. “What might your names be?” As Rabé and Eirtaé introduce themselves, a thought occurs to me that has me turning towards an all-too-innocent looking Obi-Wan. I step towards him. 

“Did you enlist Master Jinn to get all of our names so you wouldn’t have to ask?” As I plant my hands on my hips, Obi-Wan maintains an air of innocence. 

“Handmaiden  _ Sabé,  _ what makes you suspect that I would make such a request of my Master? Not only that, why would he agree to this request in the first place?” 

“Because you’re tired of saying  _ Handmaiden _ and sounding like a complete ninny?” 

His polite mask gives way as a surprised laugh escapes him. “A ninny? I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before.” 

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” 

He opens his mouth to reply, a spark of challenge in his eyes, only to be interrupted when Panaka calls all Handmaidens over to him. I curtsy towards Obi-Wan. “Until later, Jedi Kenobi.” 

“Good luck, Sabé.” For some, inexplicable reason, I rather like the way he says my name. As I walk away from him, I notice an odd, fluttering sensation in my stomach. 

Huh, maybe I should find something to eat. 

* * *

 

After hours of discussing plans with the Gungan leadership, the day gives way to night and multiple campfires are quickly built and surrounded by a mixture of groups. 

I find myself sitting between Anakin and R2-D2, while snacking on provisions brought over from our ship. Let me tell you, provisions are great when you need sustenance but most of them taste like someone took a chip of drywall and stuck it inside a wrapper. 

“And then,” Eirtaé says with a hand flourish. “The man starts choking out of nowhere! My brother accidentally gave him the meal with nuts in it and he’s, apparently, quite allergic.” 

“What happened?” Anakin asks, gnawing on a strip of jerky. After a few seconds of failure he looks at the food and scowls. I pass him a protein bar and shrug. 

“Well, my parents had to step in before it became a diplomatic incident between Naboo and Eriadu.” Eirtaé shrugs. “Neither my brother or I are made for politics. Also, my parents took twenty percent of my brother’s allowance until the hospital bill was paid.” 

“Your parents sound worse than mine.” Rabé sighs and rests her chin on her upturned palm. “Did they ever give you the speech about, ‘upholding the family name?’” 

“Only my entire life,” Eirtaé sighs. 

As they continue to discuss their, quite frankly, difficult sounding parental figures, I sneak away from the fire and head into the swamp. I don’t stop moving until the sound of conversations fade but I can still see the light of the fires. 

I haven’t been in this area of Naboo before, but it has its own beauty, just like Theed’s waterfalls and Kaadara’s blue coastline. I lean against a tree and take in my surroundings. 

“Hello there,” I let out a yelp, spinning around until I spot Obi-Wan sitting at the edge of a small pond. My racing heartbeat pounds in my ears as I will it to calm down. 

“Shavit! I didn’t even see you there.” I tilt my head, noting his cross-legged position on the ground. “Am I… interrupting your meditation?” 

“No, at least, not this time anyways.” 

I think back on the last meditation session I witnessed and shake my head. “You seem to have a poor memory, Jedi Kenobi. You started meditating after you invaded my quiet time.” 

“This must be your polite way of phrasing your tendency to sneak around.” I take a seat next to him and cross my arms. 

“Sneaking around and deception tends to come with the decoy job.” It’s hard for me to discern his expression, as my eyes are still adjusting to the darkness, but I think he’s smiling. “I’m curious about something… ” He nods for me to continue. “ ...  Were you actually fooled by the disguise? Or did you suspect us from the beginning?” 

He’s quiet for a moment, long enough for the sounds of wildlife to thrum in my ears. “At first, no, I didn’t suspect a thing. When I encountered you in the hall, and you refused to give your name, I believed that the Queen of Naboo simply liked to pretend to be a Handmaiden.” 

My eyebrows shoot into my hairline. “Even after the incident with the Tusken Raiders?” 

“I thought that you had received training in the event you had to defend yourself.” 

I can’t help but grin. “So, I  _ didn’t _ give myself away.” 

Now that my vision has cleared, I can see Obi-Wan’s raised eyebrow. “Don’t sound too excited. I at least figured out your name when Jar Jar mentioned it back on the ship.” 

“Ah, so you did actually hear that.” 

“Yes, and might I mention the fact that you were willing to give him your name, but you weren’t willing to do so with me?” 

My grin turns sly. “Yes, well, Jar Jar’s actually polite.” 

Obi-Wan laughs once as he shakes his head. “First, I’m a ninny ─ as you so cleverly phrased it ─ and now I’m impolite?” 

“I never said you  _ weren’t _ polite.” 

“But you implied it.” He continues shaking his head. “That would explain the frustration I’ve sensed from you, frequently.” 

Well, kriff. “If it makes you feel any better, I get frustrated with multiple people. You just have an unfair advantage of noticing it with all of your Force-y ways.”

“Force-y ways?”  H e echoes, in slight disbelief. 

While he ponders my choice of words, I turn more towards him. “Perhaps we should start over.” I extend my hand towards him, which he grasps with his after a moment of deliberation. “I’m Sabé Vena, Handmaiden to the Queen, and you are?” 

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Padawan to Master Jinn. You seem like an excellent shot with a blaster and good at impersonating others.” 

“Thank you. You seem like an extremely well-mannered Padawan and never once have you been called a ninny.” 

We’re both grinning at each other before I realize I’m still shaking his hand. I let go and stand up quickly. “I better be getting back before someone misses me.” 

Obi-Wan stands up as well, brushing off the leaves and moisture clinging to his robes. “I should return to my Master. It was nice meeting you, Sabé Vena.” 

“You as well, Obi-Wan Kenobi.” 

We share another smile before going our separate ways. I return to the campfire and see that Anakin has drifted to sleep, leaning against R2-D2. The droid spins towards me as I sit down. 

“Are you taking good care of him, Artoo?” 

“ _ This unit will watch over small boy-unit. _ ” 

I place my hand on the top of Artoo’s dome shaped head and smile. “I know you will.” 

* * *

 

I’ve never been so grateful to see a communication device in my lifetime. 

Not only have we escaped the swamps, ( _ “I’m never entering that black hole again without insect repellant!” _ ) we’ve managed to establish contact with some of the resistance fighters within the capital. 

The gratitude I feel quickly morphs into joy when a certain, small figure appears via holoprojection. Yané waves to us as we rush towards her image. “ _ It is so good to see you all.”  _

“It is good to see you too, Yané , ” Padmé answers. I hear Rabé sniffling beside me and I place my arm over her shoulders. “What do you have to report?” 

_ “ _ _ The Trade Federation has taken complete control of the planet. I wouldn’t be surprised if they haven’t noticed your arrival already. We’ve managed to build a force to resist the Federation’s efforts, but our attempts have been more like aggravations than anything else. If we’re going to end their reign here, I hope you have a plan.”  _

“We do. We’ve sent Panaka in to assess what we’re about to face. Can you relay that to the resistance fighters?” 

_“Yes, Your Highness._ _”_ Her image wavers, as if she’s noticing something for the first time. _“Wait, why are you giving orders as yourself and not dressed as the Queen? Do you know what could happen if they discover─”_

“We’ll explain everything later. For now, once we arrive at Theed, we will continue with the decoy plan as usual.” 

_ “As you wish, my Queen. Please be careful.”  _

“You as well, Yané.” 

Her image cuts off, leaving all of us slightly teary-eyed. I’ve missed her and Saché just as much as Halleth. When I was chosen as a Handmaiden, I never realized I’d wind up with more sisters. 

“I’m glad she’s alright,” Rabé murmurs, having regained some of her composure. “I was worried about her the most.” 

“It’s Yané. She likely had a contingency plan for invasions long before she became a Handmaiden.” I shrug one shoulder. “Did she ever tell you her ten-step plan in the event of mass hypnosis, making everything believe that they’re Kowakian monkey-lizards?” 

“Such a thing could happen?” 

“According to Yané, anything is possible.” 

A few hours later, multiple speeders arrive, bearing guards and Captain Panaka along with them. To the right, I see Jar Jar waver and faint at Boss Nass’s feet. I guess he’s just been given the news he’s been promoted to General. 

As Padmé, the Jedi, Panaka, and Boss Nass discuss the final plan of action, I feel anxiety building. Before we go anywhere, I need to talk to Qui-Gon. It seems like hours before their discussion ends. 

I watch as Qui-Gon moves to the side and take that opportunity to slip away from everyone. He turns as I approach him, as if he knew I was coming. 

Have I mentioned Force-Sensitives can be slightly unnerving? 

“Master Jinn, I need to discuss the plan of attack with you before we leave.” 

“Certainly, Sabé. I sense a great amount of concern from you.” 

I bite my lip, looking behind me to see if anyone is listening. Thankfully, everyone seems preoccupied with our departure. “Can we move a little further out?” 

His brow furrows, but he does as I ask. We move out of earshot. Before I continue, I take a deep breath. “Master Jinn, this might seem very strange to you, but do you believe that the future is predetermined?” 

“That is an excellent question. One that is difficult to answer; I believe in never forsaking the present for the sake of what  _ could _ happen.” He regards me carefully. “May I ask what this has to do with the plan your Queen has forged?” 

My hands begin to shake. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I can’t just sit by and allow something horrible to happen. “I… I can’t explain how I know this, but I  _ do _ know some things about the future ─ your future, specifically. When we reach Theed, we will be able to enter the main hangar like Padmé planned and someone will be waiting for us there─” 

“What do you mean, Sabé?” 

“ _ Please _ ,” My voice comes out in a much more desperate tone than I intended. “Just listen carefully. A Sith Lord will be waiting for you and it will lead to a battle in the generator complex. If you get separated from Obi-Wan,” A lump forms in my throat and tears blur my vision. “You’ll… you’ll die.” 

Qui-Gon stares at me. He must think I’m insane. I certainly would think that if I heard someone predicting my death. “I know this sounds crazy and you probably think I should be fired because I’m definitely not mentally stable enough to protect a Queen, let alone pretend to be her, but you need to know the truth before we─” 

“Sabé!” We turn at the sound of Padmé’s voice. “We need to go.” 

“I’ll be right there!” I look at Qui-Gon one last time. “Please, don’t say anything about this to anyone. Just, don’t get separated from Obi-Wan.” He nods solemnly and I turn to leave. 

“Sabé,” I freeze, looking at him with no small amount of fear. “If… what you’re saying is true, then you have knowledge of things that are extremely difficult to bear. You do not have to carry this burden alone.”

“I… thank you, Master Jinn.” Impulsively, I reach out and hug him before running towards Padmé. She looks at me, confusion evidenced by her frown. 

“What was that about?” 

“Nothing, it’s nothing, Padmé.” I fake a smile and take the seat next to her. “Where are we going first?” 

She doesn’t appear convinced by my dismissal but she answers me with: “We’re meeting with a group of resistance fighters after we take the passageway through the waterfalls. Some of them are guards and police officers and some, amazingly enough, are students from the Royal House of Learning that have been fighting with them.” 

For the second time in a few short minutes, I freeze. “You’re sure of this?” 

“Panaka confirmed it himself.” I rest my hands in my lap, hope beginning to fill my heart. If it’s the same group that I think it is… 

I’m going to see my sister very soon.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... is anyone else excited for the family/Handmaiden reunion? I know I am! Also, Sabé has finally revealed something about her past... any theories as to what will happen because of that? I'd love to hear them. Thank you for all the kind comments and kudos. :) I'm off to watch Attack of the Clones for the umpteenth time.


	11. Modus Operandi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a HUGE thank you to julesley for being such an amazing editor and for supporting all my plot ideas. (Not that I'm saying that are plot twists ahead, psh. That's nonsense.)

These shoes are not made for waterfall passages. 

Why do I make this statement, you ask? Could it be the many times I’ve nearly slipped and fallen on my backside since we entered Theed? Or perhaps it could be the squeaking of the left sole that began as soon as I stepped in a puddle? 

All I know is this: the next time we willingly enter into combat, I’m choosing my footwear. Rabé can’t nail fashion and practicality every time she’s presented with the challenge. Not that I would ever tell her my less-than-complimentary thoughts towards her decision. Having slippery and somewhat noisy shoes are much easier to deal with than potentially hurting a friend’s feelings. 

I follow closely behind Padmé, cursing under my breath when my left foot slips forward. Artoo rolls up to my side quickly, just as I clutch the top of his head to regain my balance, proving once again that he is still the best-kriffing-droid-in-the-galaxy. 

“Thank you, Artoo,” I whisper to him. 

_“You are welcome, decoy-unit.”_

One of these days, I’ll get him to call me Sabé. 

We follow the winding passageway, keeping our conversation to a minimum, until we reach the roughly-carved flight of steps I’d forgotten about until just now. _Kriff_ , I know I’m going to slip and break my neck in the process. I glare at said flight of stairs as if it had made improper allusions to my mother. 

“Was it something the stairs said?” I turn at the familiar Coruscanti accent, offering Obi-Wan my most-polite expression that he likely sees straight through. His expression mirrors mine in response. 

“Can you distract Rabé long enough for me to throw these shoes in the river?” 

“Perhaps, though I will fully deny any association with your deceit if it is discovered.” 

I shake my head and begin my wobbly ascent, cringing at the loudest squeak I’ve heard from my left sole thus far. “Fine, then. But if you’re really scared of her, you could let me borrow your lightsaber and I’ll protect you.” 

I can picture him rolling his eyes without needing to turn around. “I shall keep that in mind.” 

In the darkness of the passageway, I can’t help but grin. I wonder if that answer is supposed to read: ‘ _That’s never going to happen in a million years_ _.’_

After managing to navigate the stairs with only one instance of slipping, and the quick action on Eirtaé and Anakin’s part to keep me from tumbling, we enter a large cavern filled with people of varying age and size. Their mixed rumbling of voices quiets down as they spot us. 

It is hard for me to maintain my royal façade, now that we’re in a group that isn’t aware of the switch, as I recognize one girl running toward us, her hood flying back to reveal her face. The dimple in her left cheek gives her away as she smiles brilliantly.

“Saché!” Rabé calls out, breaking protocol by running to meet her. The two crash together, flailing arms wrapping around each other in a hug. As soon as we reach them, Padmé, Eirtaé,  and I are pulled into the embrace. I’m not sure which concept amazes me more: the fact that I can participate in a group hug while styled as the Queen, or the fact that Eirtaé hasn’t complained once about being involved in said group hug. 

The most we can ever get from her is a celebratory fist-bump. 

“It’s good to see you, all of you.” Saché pulls back first and I narrow my eyes on the vivid bruising I see on her forehead. She defers to me, quickly falling back into proper procedure. “Yané told us you were on your way, Your Highness. We get to send the Federation to Chaos now, right?” 

“That is our plan.” I say, catching Padmé’s flick of her left hand. “Have you spoken with the Resistance members about assisting us with our distraction?” 

Saché nods, stepping aside to reveal a rather fierce looking, red-haired girl sporting a blaster. The stony expression on her face makes me glad we’re on the same side. I’d hate to run into her in a dark alley. “This is Dané, my lady. She has offered to lead a group of fighters.” 

“Your Highness,” she bows her head curtly. “We’re happy to dismantle as many droids for you as possible.” 

“Thank you, Dané,” I look over her shoulder and barely keep myself from gasping aloud. Standing right behind her is a small, blonde version of me, her face smudged with ash. The girl narrows her hazel eyes in scrutiny. _Halleth…_ “Your bravery and valor is appreciated. Who else is accompanying you on this mission?” 

I listen as Dané names each person who offered their services, ending with my little sister stepping forward and bowing. Her voice is quiet as she says: “Your Highness, are all of the Handmaidens fighting with us?” 

My heart begins to break at the concern in her voice. No one else would be able to hear it, but I know her far too well. Her eyes glance around the room in search of someone… in search of _me_. Never have I wanted to ruin my disguise more than at this very moment. 

“All Handmaidens will be assisting. From what I’ve heard from one Handmaiden in particular, you’re something of a crack shot.” Halleth’s eyes land on me and I can visualize the gears turning in her mind. After a quick pause, her eyebrows lift as she grins. 

She knows. 

“I take after my idiot sister in that regard.” She ignores the scandalized looks others give her and I smirk, despite myself. Seeing her in person and witnessing her unnervingly swift mind is the largest relief I’ve ever felt. I wish I could hug her properly;, and then shake her for putting herself in so much danger.

“She must be a rather gifted shot indeed.” I turn to Panaka, whose brows have furrowed to the point of nearly joining. “Captain, you have the floor.” 

I move back as Panaka relays the plan in great detail, dividing us all into groups labeled by color. A group of guards and pilots join me while I lock eyes with Halleth. She crosses her eyes at me, proving I’m not the only one with the tendency to make faces. 

The Trade Federation doesn’t stand a chance against the Averna siblings. 

* * *

 

By some way of artful maneuvering, Saché manages to draw all the Handmaidens and Padmé away from the bustling crowd arming themselves in the cavern. She leads us to another room, close enough for us to reappear quickly when needed, but far enough for private conversations that need to be had. 

Our voices tumble over each other as questions fly between us. 

“Saché, what happened to your head?” Eirtaé points to the bruise that Saché quickly covers with her hood. “Have you been experiencing any dizziness? Blurred vision?” 

“Calm down, Nurse Eirtaé, it’s nothing serious,.” She grumbles back at her. 

“We were so worried about you and Yané,” Rabé’s voice shakes slightly. “I’m so glad you’re both okay.” 

“We were worried about you, too! Did you manage to get the Senate’s help?” The four of us that have recently been off planet share a look, before Padmé clears her throat. 

“Not exactly, Saché. To make a long story short, there will be a new Supreme Chancellor in the very near future.” 

Saché’s eyebrows nearly rise into her hairline. “Kriff, really? Who’s up for election?” 

“Senator Palpatine is a likely contender for the position.” Rabé answers and Saché’s jerks her head to me. 

“I’m sure you’re thrilled to hear your favorite person is about to have even more power.” 

I cross my arms. “Don’t remind me.” The thought of Palpatine’s schemes still managing to succeed irks me. I really need to look into whoever resides in Eriadu. “Where is Yané now?” 

“She has stationed herself near the palace with a temporary communications array that allows us to keep contact.” Saché shrugs one shoulder. “Between her and your sister, Sabé, it’s like watching two geniuses plot world domination.” Her eyes widen. “Hold on one moment.,” 

We watch in confusion as she leaves us behind. Eirtaé is the first to comment on her disappearance. “What is she doing?” 

“I don’t know, it’s _Saché_ , remember? She’s not exactly known for explaining her actions,” I pause. “Except for times when she rants about pilots that pissed her off.,” 

The others share a quick laugh, all very aware of our fellow Handmaiden’s opinion on pilots in general. Eirtaé shares a sly smile with Rabé before she focuses on me. “She’s almost as bad about bantering with them as you are with Jedi Kenobi.” 

I’m thankful for the makeup that covers the sudden blush crawling up my neck and face. “I do not banter with him _that_ much.” 

“ _’You could let me borrow your lightsaber and I’ll protect you.’_ Honestly, Sabé.” I’m torn between being impressed at Padmé’s impression of me, and annoyance that she heard the conversation to begin with. 

“Okay, so maybe I banter with him a little too much, but that tends to be my modus operandi with people that aggravate me!” 

“It’s true; she’s always been that way.” I turn and see Halleth grinning in the entryway, Saché perched right beside her. 

In an instant, I’m across the room and hugging my little sister. She hugs me back for a short while until I feel her arms start to loosen around me. “Uh, you’re starting to cut off oxygen there, big sister.” 

“Shhh, don’t ruin the moment.” 

“You’ll ruin the moment by killing me from asphyxiation!” 

“Aw, isn’t she just so cute with her multi-syllabic words?” 

“Says the girl who used, ‘ _modus operandi_!’” 

The others laugh as I finally release Halleth and take a long appraisal of her. She looks the same, aside from being covered in dirt and ash, but her eyes have a depth to them I haven’t witnessed before. It’s a look of fear I’ve seen in my own reflection. 

“Promise me you’ll be careful out there.” I order as she crosses her arms. 

“I’m not the one dressed as the Queen here. Speaking of which, whose great idea was that?” 

“Hey! I’ll have you know I’ve managed to fool everyone until _someone_ spilled the beans yesterday.” 

Padmé looks sheepish for a moment before she lifts her chin in defiance. “That was a mutual decision, which Captain Panaka is now fully aware of.” 

Kriff. We’re all going to hear a lecture from him once this is over. My ears are ringing already. 

“Lovely, I was just thinking he hadn’t had enough opportunity to chastise us,.” Eirtaé drawls. “I give him thirty minutes after the battle before he lets us have it.”

“Thirty?” Saché smirks. “Try fifteen. I’m so glad I won’t have any part in that.” 

“You will if I tell him that you gave us the idea before we left Naboo.” 

“ _That is evil and you know it!_ ” 

As they bicker I take in all these girls that each have special places reserved in my heart. If only Yané were here, then my circle would be complete. 

As if on cue, Saché’s comlink lets out a crackling noise. “ _Saché! Are they there yet? I need to let them know about the chances of secondhand exposure to plasma burnoff in the main hangar.”_

Saché stares at the communication device incredulously before shaking her head. “Yané, please don’t ever change.” 

* * *

 

Even though I know what’s supposed to happen… I have a bad feeling about this. 

I adjust my grip on my blaster as we sneak towards our target. The hangar in question is seated near the Generator Complex I warned Qui-Gon about, and the thought of it makes my stomach churn with dread. 

Ever since our last conversation I’ve tried to avoid his scrutinizing looks. 

The other thought I keep circling back to is Dané’s attitude towards Panaka. (Yes, I’m aware that I’m the last person that should comment on anyone’s attitude towards the Captain.) She visibly bristled when he assigned her to lead Green Group; which would move in on his orders to draw attention away from the hangar before we take out the AAT hovering at the entrance. 

I couldn’t tell whether this was her knee-jerk reaction to authority or if she doesn’t like the particular assignment. All I know is this: Halleth is with her and if any harm comes to my little sister heads will _roll_. 

To my surprise, Pilot Var volunteered to join my group. If he feels any ill will towards me for assigning him to shadow Obi-Wan, he hasn’t said as much. In fact, he’s been more protective than the others despite the fact he’s the only one in my group that knows I’m not actually the Queen. 

“Be careful, Your Highness,” he whispers, after looking around the corner. “Green Group has already moved in and we may come across droids chasing after them.” 

My stomach sinks to my feet. “What do you mean Green Group has already acted? It’s too soon.” 

“That’s what I heard Captain Panaka say over my comm. They moved towards the Generator Complex because there was a larger droid presence there.” 

Impossibly, my stomach sinks even further. Horror begins to set in. “Give me your comm.” 

“But the Captain said─” 

“That’s an order, Pilot Var.” 

Wordlessly, he passes the comlink over to me. I have no time to ponder whether or not I technically outrank him as my clammy hands fumble with the device. “Green Group, report.” Radio silence… “Green Group, what is your status?” 

I leave my thumb hovering over the receiver. As soon as I open my mouth once more, a crackly voice replies: _“We’re falling back─there’s a─_ ” I place my hand over my mouth at the humming sound of a lightsaber, followed by pained screams. Blaster fire begins to slow down. _“Abort mis─”_

The comlink slips from my hands, clattering at my feet as the transmission ends with another scream. My vision tinges red as my mind puts together what I just heard. I know for a fact that there are three lightsaber wielders currently on my planet, and two of them are just ahead of me. 

Darth Maul just attacked Green Group and my sister was a part of them. 

“Your Highness, we need to keep moving.” Rage and hatred boil inside me as I pick up the comlink and move forward. When we fire on the AAT waiting at the hangar entrance, all I can focus on is destroying anything that represents the Trade Federation and Palpatine. My shots never miss when I picture Darth Maul waiting on the other side. 

The hangar doors slide open and we move inside. Green and red bolts flash across the room with more droids falling than Naboo fighters. I see Anakin sneak off towards one of the starfighters as we press forward.

“Get to your ships!” Padmé orders above the din. Pilot Var soon leaves my side to join the others, but not before wishing me good luck. I nod, still shaking from anger as another droid falls in front of me. 

We duck low as the starfighters begin taking off. The noise of their engines nearly drowns out the power coupling that explodes to my left. I avoid the shower of sparks. Soon, but not quickly enough, the number of droids lowers until there are only a few left. The stragglers that remain are swiftly dealt with and my group joins the others in the center of the hangar. 

“You know what you need to do,” Padmé says to me and I nod once more, lips pressed firmly together. It’s our job to move in through the secret passageway in the south side of the palace. While we cause a distraction in the side corridors, Yané, with her excellent slicing skills, will be opening doors for us and shutting them on the Trade Federation. 

I barely hear her words about the Viceroy’s location, or Qui-Gon’s orders to Anakin to remain hidden while they walk towards the exit. The doors slide open, revealing the face I’ve been waiting to see ever since the last communication from Green Group. _Darth Maul._

“Your Highness,” one of the guards urges, “We need to move out.” 

Without warning, I lift my blaster and fire just as Darth Maul moves his hood away from his face. He moves slightly to the right and the bolt scores the wall behind him, leaving a scorch mark. I don’t care whether or not he can hear me, but I pour every ounce of hatred into my next words. 

“That was for Halleth.” 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe she fired at him!” 

“Did you see his lightsaber? There were two blades!” 

I ignore the guards’ comments as we enter from the south, meeting up with various mixtures of battle droids and destroyers on the way. I swear vehemently when a group of five destroyers rolls in, their shields activating as they unfurl. 

I grab the comlink I forgot to return to Pilot Var. “Yané! How dangerous would it be to overload a few power couplings?” 

_“Extremely dangerous, Your Highness,”_ is her reply. “ _I can’t initiate a controlled surge from here without potentially catastrophic damage to the electrical grid.”_

I lean around the pillar and fire, the blaster bolts firing harmlessly off of the destroyers’ shields. I kriffing hate these things. An idea occurs to me. “What if you shut down the containment forcefields in the main Generator Complex? Won’t that cause a power surge?” 

“ _What!? If I do that, all of the power may shut down indefinitely!”_

All I can envision is the red, glowing dividers that Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, and Darth Maul may have reached by now. “It’s our best chance of getting through this group, Yané!” 

I fire multiple times while waiting for Yané’s response. The destroyers press towards us and one of the guards falls from a bolt to the chest. I’ve been trained to defend my Queen and myself, but nothing prepared me for seeing others die like this. 

A power coupling by the stairs bursts open, sending a wave of electrical power outwards. The shields on the destroyers begin to flicker. We move forward and fire down the droids before their defenses can kick back in. 

“Good work, Yané!” I lift the comlink again. “You just saved us.” 

_“Get moving, Your Majesty! The first group is nearly to the throne room!”_

Oh kriff. 

I motion for the guards to follow me as I take off down the corridor. I can’t be late. I can’t miss the window of opportunity when Padmé encounters the Viceroy. 

Why do we have so many kriffing stairs!? Whoever designed the Palace should be reincarnated just to have to fight this battle themselves! I have to get to Padmé, I have to get to Padmé. 

“Your Highness, look out!” 

I lift my right arm wildly, firing at a battle droid that tried to approach us from the side. Sweat pours down my face. At this rate, I won’t be able to see anything by the time I get to the throne room. 

More droids attempt to intercept us, and Yané’s masterful slicing continues to overload power couplings along the way. I only hope that the electrical engineers won’t have my head for coming up with this plan once the battle is said and done. 

Lights around us flicker and doors open partially. I wince when I hear an explosion behind us. That did not sound good…

Another flight of stairs, a turn to the right, flying down the corridor and skidding to a stop brings me to our destination. I catch my breath before saying the words I’ve been longing to use ever since the Trade Federation approached our borders. 

“Viceroy! Your occupation here has ended!” 

 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to give a shout out to Grunthos for giving me the idea to have Sabé shoot at Darth Maul. Once I read that comment, the image wouldn't leave me alone. 
> 
> So... the aftermath of the battle will be in the next chapter, and time will tell who did or didn't survive... Thank you all for the kudos and comments! They always make my day!


	12. Hazardous Noodles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to julesley for being amazing and pointing out security risks for me.

_“The invasion is over! Queen Amidala and many brave fighters have taken back control of our beloved planet! Further details shall follow, please remain in your homes and safe houses until further notice.”_

_-_ Breaking news bulletin, courtesy of Mali Nightbreak

* * *

 

I thought I understood the concept of a hollow victory after I won a candy-eating competition at school and then was sick for the rest of the day. Winning the grudging respect of my classmates didn’t comfort me while I suffered the worst stomachache I’ve ever had. 

Despite that seemingly harrowing experience, I wasn’t prepared for the aftermath of our plan; the metaphorical and literal dust settling. Even though we won and a new treaty was signed, I couldn’t rest until my multiple attempts at comming Green Group eventually led me to the medbay. Hearing a torrent of curse words in a Kaadarian accent brings me more relief than it should have. 

Seeing my sister arguing with a nurse about the healing properties of kolto versus bacta (“ _Kolto is a natural substance that accelerates the healing rate of skin tissue, unlike bacta that’s grown in a lab under a microscope, what part of that do you not kriffing understand!?”_ ) is enough to bring tears to my eyes. I swallow once before clearing my throat. 

“Pardon me,” the nurse and Halleth stop arguing, turning their heads to me. The former takes stock of my Handmaiden robes and nods, while the latter seems to shrink in her cot, her hands fiddling with the sheets over her legs. “I would like to speak with this girl before her head explodes from all that knowledge she likes to whiplash people with.” 

“Oy!” Halleth snaps at me while the nurse moves away. I take a seat on the edge of her cot, noting the way her left arm is wrapped in bandages and the stitched wound that travels from her hairline down to her left ear, nearly missing her eye. “If you’re here to make me feel better, you should’ve brought food, or a datapad. How am I supposed to keep up with what’s going on if they completely cut me off from the outside world?” 

“They probably want you to _rest_ , Howl-eth.” 

She shakes her head, paling slightly. “Don’t talk to me about rest. How am I supposed to sleep after─” My heart pangs in my chest when her words fall short, ending on a choked sound; I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen Halleth cry. (Excluding her time as a baby, which I’d assume is a given.)  “Have you heard from Mom and Dad?” 

The sudden change of subject speaks louder than any words she might say. “Traffic into Theed is being monitored closely but they should be here tonight.” 

Halleth meets my eyes, scrutinizing me in that sisterly-way she’d mastered a long time ago.  She and Eirtaé could teach a class on ‘Reading-Sabé-Like-A-Book.’ “What’s wrong?” 

A surprised laugh escapes me. “You’re the one lying in a medbay yet you’re asking _me_ what’s wrong? Isn’t that a little backwards?” 

“You’re deflecting.” I open my mouth to retort before she rather rudely interrupts me. “You’re five seconds away from mentioning that you’re hungry, probably something about biscuits.” My mouth closes, teeth clicking together. _Well, then_. “What happened?” 

A lump rises in my throat. She watches me silently until I can manage a few, coherent words. “We defeated the Trade Federation. That’s what happened.” 

Her hand, the uninjured one, wraps over mine. It’s as if we have a mutual understanding that if we speak of what happened during the battle, it makes it more real; set in permacrete, and forever etched in our minds. 

Knowing my sister survived is a victory; knowing that the Trade Federation was defeated is another victory; I should be celebrating. I should be laughing and dancing. I should be eating my weight in biscuits. 

But all I can think about is the fact that Qui-Gon Jinn didn’t survive his encounter with Darth Maul. 

* * *

 

**From SVRHM@RNSF to meangreenmachine@averna 1707 GST Subject: [Encoded 98568] Honestly, Halleth...**

_If you and Saché don’t stop terrorizing your nurses ─ who are trying to HELP you both recover, by the way ─ I am marching down to the medbay myself and you won’t like what I have to say._

_XOXO SV_

_P.S. Don’t underestimate me. I’m armed with cleaning supplies and I’m not afraid to use them._

**From meangreenmachine@averna to SVRHM@RNSF 1708 GST Subject:RE[Encoded 98568] Honestly, Halleth...**

_Ooo, we’re SO scared. What are you going to do? Scrub us to death? Dust us off?_

_If you do come by, can you bring us some food? Saché tried to talk her pilot friend into bringing us something but his shift won’t be over for another hour._

_XOXO HA_

_P.S. But really… we’re starving._

**From meangreenmachine@averna to SVRHM@RNSF 1709 GST Subject:RE[Encoded 98568] Honestly, Halleth…**

_WAIT… Saché has a pilot friend!?_

_XOXO SV_

**From meangreenmachine@averna to SVRHM@RNSF 1711 GST Subject:RE[Encoded 98568] Honestly, Halleth…**

_I guess you’ll have to bring us some food, and then you’ll find out…_

_XOXO HA_

-  Message thread between Royal Handmaiden Sabé Vena and civilian contact Halleth Averna

 

* * *

 

There are some who preach the wonders of healthy coping mechanisms and I applaud their ability to use them. However, in times like these, I’ve found that the best thing to do is to keep myself busy. 

Power couplings need to be worked on? Sure! I’ll pass you the hydrospanner. The Queen needs to be at a meeting in five minutes? You bet I’ll have her there in three, even if I’m braiding her hair as we run from one end of the Palace to another. There’s a crack in the floor that needs caulking? Show me how to do it and I will ultimately make the situation worse and walk away in defeat. 

But let’s not dwell on that last one. 

Also, I’ve found that being surrounded by reckless, foolhardy women is another way to keep myself and my thoughts occupied thanks to Halleth and Saché both ending up in the medbay. As you can imagine, they’re both _lovely,_ cooperative patients. 

“Sabé?” I look up from the spot in the carpet I’ve been cleaning, to see Eirtaé and Yané standing over me. 

“Oh! Hey! Have you ever noticed this stain in our chambers? It’s been bothering me ever since we moved in and I’ve almost got it removed, so please try not to step on it─” 

They share a look, amidst my continued babbling and reach down to take my arms and haul me upwards. I sway a little on my feet at the sudden change of height and scowl. “Kriff, maybe warn a girl before you do that?” 

“Do you realize what time it is?” Eirtaé asks, crossing her arms. I look at my feet as if they’re the most interesting thing in the room. 

“You know, time flies when you’re having fun and all that…”

“It’s 1500 hours,” Yané interjects, pointing to the chrono on the wall. “The ceremony is in three hours and we have to get ourselves and the Queen ready. Saché is already angry enough that she’s too injured to make it to the funeral pyre and she will murder you slowly if she discovers you missed it because you’re too busy cleaning carpets.” 

My heart stutters once as I think about the upcoming ceremony for Master Jinn. The Jedi and various representatives from the Republic arrived in Theed this morning, including Palpatine-the-Awful, and I’ve only seen Obi-Wan once in passing since the battle’s end. 

I couldn’t look him in the eyes. 

“I’m almost done with this stain, I promise. It won’t take me long to get ready and─oh, would you stop doing that!?” I struggle as Eirtaé and Yané grab my arms and drag me to the refresher. They ignore my cursing and attempts to dig in my heels until I find myself face-to-face with the tiled walls of the hydro-shower. 

These grout lines are disgraceful. I need to clean them next. 

“Shower off, make yourself presentable, and meet us in Padmé’s chambers in thirty minutes.” Eirtaé’s tone allows for no argument and Yané shoves a loofah in my face. 

“Don’t worry,” she states as I eye the fluffy, pink object questioningly. “It’s a brand new one and completely free of germs and contaminants. Don’t forget to scrub behind your ears.” 

I squawk as Eirtaé forcefully closes the curtain, leaving me in a state of confusion while the loofah slips from my fingers. Cursing under my breath, I throw my clothes out and turn the water as hot as the controls allow. Even though it feels as if my skin is scalding, it helps me focus on something other than the sadness and shame roiling inside. 

What is the point of knowing the future if I can’t stop it? Why did I have to be reborn here only to watch the same events play out? Does the Force have some cruel sense of humor? The expression on Obi-Wan’s face the last time I saw him was so… 

A hand slaps against the wall beside the shower, making me scream in fright. “What the kark is wrong with you!?” 

“You have ten minutes. Hurry up, Averna!” Eirtaé’s voice carries over the showering water and I shove my arm out from behind the curtain, waving one finger at her. She merely scoffs. “How very mature…” 

Two minutes later, I’m towel drying my hair while brushing my teeth with my other free hand. Rabé is perched at the mirror to my right, expertly twisting her hair into a bun while looking at me. I spit out my toothpaste and then pause under her scrutiny. 

“… May I help you?” 

“You know I’m here if you ever need to talk, right?” 

I force a bright smile on my face. “Of course!” In the midst of our conversation, I notice a spot on the lower right section of the mirror. I need to clean that as well. “Did you get any sleep last night?” 

“ _Yes,_ ” I breathe a sigh of relief as Rabé accepts the subject change. That girl has always loved the idea of sleep. “There’s nothing like being in your own bed.” 

I agree half-heartedly, since all I did was stare at the ceiling last night. To say I had an hour of sleep would be generous. 

All I could see when I closed my eyes was the encounter I had with Obi-Wan. I couldn’t get away from Padmé long enough to run down to the Generator Complex right after the battle, and when our paths finally crossed it was in the midst of the transportation of Qui-Gon’s body to the morgue. I’d nearly dropped the datapads I was carrying when I saw his body in the hover-pod. He’d been laid out with dignity, his hands crossed over the wound in his midsection that ultimately killed him. 

I’m not sure if what I said to Obi-Wan was coherent, something along the lines of, “Oh kriff, I’m so─I’ll get out of your way now, I’m-so-sorry,” before I ran off like a complete coward. 

Even though Obi-Wan’s neutral mask was firmly in place, I knew he was suffering. He also seemed to be favoring his right foot, which meant that he was injured. Any warnings I tried to give Qui-Gon only made things worse. I don’t remember Obi-Wan being physically harmed in the movie. 

The guilt has been weighing me down ever since then. 

“─and I even missed Yané’s sleep-talking, can you imagine that? I still don’t understand what her strange fear of noodles is, but I don’t think it’s my place to ask.” I shake my head as if it’ll make the memories go away and smile at Rabé. 

“You know, she’s never mentioned any strange, horrific noodle-related catastrophes to us. Maybe the irrational fear is so deep in her subconscious she isn’t even aware of it? Maybe she was forced to wear a noodle hat as a child?” 

“I heard that!” Yané walks in, her mouth turned downwards. “I’ll have you know that noodles are a potential choking hazard to many small children and certain alien species that lack esophageal organs. The number of noodle-related deaths is far too high for my liking. Studies show that any nutritional properties that can be found are non-substantive and don’t support a healthy diet.” 

Rabé and I share a look as she continues her noodle-related diatribe. 

I can always count on Yané for her positivity. 

* * *

 

The ceremony for Qui-Gon was exactly what I suspected it would be, yet somehow, ten times worse. I don’t remember when I grabbed Eirtaé and Rabé’s hands, but before the funeral pyre finished burning out, all of the Handmaidens could be found linked together. 

I even dared a glance at Anakin and Obi-Wan, seeing the latter promise to train the former in the Jedi arts. I looked away when Obi-Wan’s eyes met mine and allowed the tears to slip freely, thankful for the covering of my hood. My stomach churned with a mixture of sorrow, anger, and disappointment that things weren’t different. 

Anger won out when I looked in Palpatine’s direction. Have I mentioned that I _hate_ that man? 

After we returned to our chambers and led an exhausted Padmé to bed, I stared at the ceiling for hours. As the moonbeams traveled over my head I decided that I needed to occupy my time once more. Glancing around the room, I realized that if I wake up the other Lead and Palace Handmaidens with cleaning, they may have my head. So I came to the decision that only one place could bring the solace I so desperately need. 

Quietly, I sneak down the halls to one of my favorite places in the Palace. When I reach the warm, sandstone floors of the kitchen I am surprised to see a small, blonde-haired boy sitting at the counter. He stares at his hands until my soft inhale of surprise alerts him to my presence. 

“Oh… hey Sabé.” His voice is hoarse, leading me to suspect that he’s been crying. He wipes his nose with his sleeve. 

“Hey Anakin… trouble sleeping?” 

“The beds are too soft,” He replies, watching me open the conservator and dig around the shelves until I find what I’m looking for. I grab a jar of shuura fruit jam and a plate of biscuits that clearly have my name written on them. 

“Want some?” I ask as I slide the plate over to him and he gladly accepts it. We eat our food in companionable silence until I spot the datapad resting beside him. “So, if you can’t sleep, what have you been doing down here all alone?” 

Anakin slumps further, resting his elbows on the table. “Obi-Wan─no, wait, _Master_ Obi-Wan, I’m still not used to that─said I could read about the Jedi before my training begins, if I wanted. But…” 

“ _Buuuuuut_?” I ask, a grin sliding on my face as Anakin squirms. “You were reading about something else?” 

“Did you know that there are three major podraces on Malastare, Ando Prime, and Aleen? The tech they use is so wizard compared to what we had on Tatooine.” 

“Speaking of which,” I take another bite of my biscuit. “We watched the race from the ship, how did you learn to fly like that?” 

“Because I’m the best pilot in the galaxy, that’s how!” I choke on my biscuit as Anakin puffs his chest out and grins. Once my throat clears, I can’t help but grin back at him. 

“Well, if you’re the best pilot in the galaxy, you’re looking at the worst one.” 

He raises an eyebrow. “Come on, you can’t be _that_ bad.” 

“Oh, I am. You know the gear shift on Koro-2 speeders? The one’s that are supposed to be indestructible?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I snapped it in half when I tried to downshift into reverse.” I was also terrified because it was raining and I couldn’t get the wipers to work properly, but I don’t think he needs to know that. Anakin’s eyes widen owlishly. 

“Whoa… maybe you _are_ that bad.” 

“Hey! You didn’t have to agree so quickly!” He ducks the wadded napkin I throw at him and emerges with a bright grin. 

“You shouldn’t have done that, Sabé.” He grabs what’s left of his biscuit and tosses it at me. I sidestep and the food sails harmlessly past me. I narrow my eyes at him in challenge. 

“Oh, it is _on!_ ” 

We launch ourselves to opposite sides of the kitchen, each grabbing supplies and food to use as ammunition. My hand reaches inside a jar of berries underneath the bar and I launch the fruit into the air. Anakin yelps as the food pelts him on top of the head. 

“That’s so unfair!” He flings shuura fruit jam in my direction and I squawk when it smacks me on the side of my face. He has surprisingly good aim for a nine-year-old. 

“Anakin Whatever-Your-Middle-Name-Is Skywalker! You will pay for that!” 

The fight continues and the kitchen shows signs of our heated warfare. By the time I run out of wadded napkins to throw at him and he uses his final supply of sliced butter, the walls and floor are covered with various and sundry splatters. A muja fruit pod, in an excellent display of rebellion against gravity, sticks to the ceiling above us. 

“What is going on in here?” Anakin and I freeze mid-throw as Obi-Wan stands just inside the kitchen, arms folded. I am suddenly aware of the jam stuck to my face and the butter in my hair. He raises an eyebrow as his mouth twitches. 

“She started it!” Anakin points at me, throwing me under the metaphorical airbus. 

“He insulted my flying!” 

“You told me you’re the worst pilot in the galaxy yourself!” 

“You were reading about podracing when you should’ve been studying the Jedi Code or some other facet of your training!” 

Our argument stops as the fruit pod above us descends from the ceiling, landing on top of Obi-Wan’s head with a decisive smack. My jaw drops as it slides down his hair and meets its final resting place in a dejected heap on the floor. 

The three of us stare at the kamikaze fruit before a snort escapes me. I cover my mouth and drop to my knees, howling with laughter as Anakin joins in with me. Obi-Wan shakes his head at us. 

“It’s not funny.” 

I point at him, tears streaming down my red face. “No, it’s _hilarious.”_ Anakin rolls on the ground to my right. Obi-Wan maintains a valiant effort of composure, until I wheeze out another laugh and he cracks. He tilts his head back and laughs, which fuels our hysterics even further. 

By the time we manage to settle down, my midsection hurts and my lungs scream at me due to oxygen deprivation. I bring myself to stand on wobbly knees, grinning wider than a Hutt spotting a quick money scheme. 

“Oh man,” I look around the kitchen and sigh. “This is going to be fun to clean up.” 

“We’ll help you,” Obi-Wan says, earning a wide-eyed stare from Anakin. 

“Wait, really?” 

“Yes, my young Padawan, let this be your first lesson in choosing your battles wisely.” 

As Anakin grumbles his disagreement, I point to the hallway. “There are cleaning droids in the supply closet down the hall. They’ll make it easier if you go and activate them.” 

Anakin is out of the kitchen quicker than a blaster bolt, leaving us chuckling at his quick departure. 

“You’re going to have your hands full with him,” I state, finding rags for the both of us and wiping down the surfaces around me. 

“I suspected as much,” The amusement in his voice is clear. “Especially if he’s around any mischievous influences.” 

“I _know_ you’re not implying that I’m mischievous.” 

“Would I say such a thing?” 

“You know, they may call you the _Negotiator_ but I think your diplomatic skills need work.” 

He pauses mid-swipe. “Believe it or not, no one has called me a negotiator of any sort.” 

I freeze, mind whirling at what I’d just said. _Kriff_. He doesn’t earn that title until the Clone Wars begin. Why did I even say anything? 

“Well… it just seems like a title you’d be given.” 

“So you’re saying that my diplomatic skills are worth noting by others even if you hold them in contempt?” 

I cross my eyes at him, which earns a chuckle. “It’s too early for this.” 

“Says the woman that started a food fight with a nine-year-old.” 

“Says the man who’s about to be backhanded with a cleaning rag.” 

He matches my glare mockingly, which breaks through my aggravation more quickly than it should have. Our bickering quiets down as I begin scrubbing a spot on the floor. If Anakin doesn’t hurry up with those droids, we’re going to be here a while. 

The words that have been bubbling up inside me fall out of my mouth before I can stop them. “I’m sorry about Master Jinn. I know you two had to have been close.” 

Obi-Wan halts, turning to look at me with a polite, neutral expression; all traces of his mirth are gone. “It’s not your fault, Sabé.” 

Somehow, his words are like a balm to my guilt-ridden heart. I continue scrubbing at the spot in front of me with vigor. 

“However,” he continues and I pause and look over my shoulder at him. “If you plan at firing at a Sith I’m about to do battle with, try to give me a warning next time.” 

My face turns red when I think about my impulsive shot at Darth Maul’s face. It seemed like a good idea at the time. “For your sake and mine, let’s hope that situation won’t happen again.” 

Before he responds, Anakin marches in with a small army of cleaning droids in tow. “I found them! One of them has a faulty compressor and I had to fix it if these floors are ever going to get clean.” 

Twenty minutes later, the kitchen is spotless and the droids return to their charging stations in the supply closet. Anakin stretches his arms above his head and yawns. 

“I think it is time for a shower and sleep.” Obi-Wan places his hand on Anakin’s shoulder and guides him out of the kitchen. “Good night, Sabé.” 

“G’night, Sabé,” Anakin yawns again, waving lazily at me. 

“Sleep well.” I smile as they depart, feeling my exhaustion catch up to me as my jaw cracks with a yawn. My eyes narrow on the datapad that miraculously escaped the food fight unharmed. Once again, my maturity displays itself by way of unlocking the camera and leaving a series of hideous pictures of myself on the photo bank. 

I’m particularly proud of the shot that displays my ability to grow three chins and the perfect angle of my nostrils. 

Footsteps patter towards the kitchen and I set the datapad down innocently. Anakin hurries in and grabs it with a sigh of relief. “Phew! I can’t believe I almost forgot Obi-Wa─ _Master_ Obi-Wan’s datapad.” 

My eyes widen in horror. “Wait, did you say that’s Obi-Wan’s─” 

“Good night Sabé!” 

I stare blankly ahead as I’m left behind in the kitchen once more. I just left some of the most hideous pictures of myself on Obi-Wan’s datapad. _Kriff._

I wonder if Yané’s slicing skills extend to personal tech. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost finished with the Phantom Menace arc! Soon we'll be venturing into the timeline between Episode I and II and trust me... it's going to be fun. If you ask nicely, I may even hint about what's coming up! Thank you all for the kudos and comments. You're the best. :)


	13. Local Supernovas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance to those who will be craving cupcakes after reading this...

_“Do you know what happened to all of our dust rags?”_

_“I saw one of the Handmaidens running around a basket of ‘em. Guess they’re not as important as they seem to be if they’re off doing our jobs… “_

_“Which Handmaiden?”_

_“Beats me; you know it’s hard to tell ‘em apart. I may be wrong, but it sounded like she was swearin’ up a storm.”_

_“Oh, stop it, you spacer. Handmaidens are too prim and proper to swear.”_

  * A conversation between two maids on the way to clean the Queen’s quarters



* * *

 

The Queen is not alright.

I can see it in Padmé’s eyes. She’s holding it together well, (Which, I suppose, makes sense as she is a politician...) but there are subtle ways which prove to me that things aren’t as they seem.

For example: she hasn’t argued with me once over the past week about finishing her breakfast when I’ve brought it to her. There was also the time that I escorted her to the medbay to visit Saché and she didn’t even blink when there was a young man in a pilot’s uniform sitting at her bedside.

Now _that_ was a fun conversation. I’ve never seen Saché turn so red and I’ve known her for years. (“ _Pilot Bran was just leaving, weren’t you, Pilot Bran!?”_ )

Needless to say, she has a lot of explaining to do once she’s recovered further. Even I won’t tease her too much while she’s healing from knee surgery.

Even now, as I listen to Padmé discuss the plans for the Unity Parade happening tomorrow, her inability to be completely still has me worried. She keeps tapping her fingers on the throne and exhaling through her nose more than she typically would.

Something is not right.

“─why, just yesterday, I had an enlightening conversation with Boss Nass about the new relations between the Naboo and the Gungans. He seems to be quite pleased with the respect he has been shown as of late.” Governor Bibble, bless him, has risen in my esteem after the way he handled the Trade Federation while we were away. I’ve decided to cease my impressions of him for now.

“The Gungans made just as many sacrifices as we have. They should have the place of honor in the Unity Parade.” Padmé exhales through her nose again. That makes the sixth time since the discussion began twenty minutes ago. How can no one else tell that something is weighing on her!? “I have been assured that everything is in order for the festivities? What of security, Captain Panaka?”

“Your Highness, I will be posted to the left of Supreme Chanceller Palpatine, while four of the Lead Handmaidens will be behind us.” He glances at Yané and me.  We were chosen to sit in on this conference while Eirtaé and Rabé assist with the preparations. I would’ve preferred the latter. Sitting still has not been easy for me as of late. “Your safety is assured.”

“I have no doubts concerning my safety. You all have shown your diligence time and time again.” Padmé turns towards Obi-Wan, who stands across from me and Governor Bibble. “Jedi Kenobi, I would like for you and your Padawan to take a place of honor on my right. We cannot express our full gratitude for your actions,” her voice waver s slightly, “But we will not miss the opportunity to thank you during our celebration.”

Obi-Wan inclines his head. “That is kind of you, Your Highness.”

Somehow, I suspect he’d rather be watching the celebration from the side rather than stuck in the front.

Padmé rises from her seat, causing Yané and I to do the same. The rest of the attendees that weren’t already standing are on their feet immediately. Thank the Force, we’re about to start moving again. “It seems as if all preparations are well underway. If there are no further matters to discuss, I shall retire for the evening.”

All the legislators bow towards her as she leaves the room, Yané and I following quietly. I look over my shoulder and catch Obi-Wan’s nod in my direction. I wonder if he has discovered the devastatingly beautiful (read: not) pictures I left on his datapad.

Knowing him, he’ll let me wonder about it for a while, just to aggravate me.

Once we are out of earshot of the assembly, Padmé stops and turns to us. Yané and I halt clumsily in an attempt not to run into her. If Panaka had seen us just now, I can only imagine the formation training session we’d have to endure. “I need your help with something.”

“Anything, Your Highness,” Yané affirms, ever the faithful observer of protocol. It took her weeks for her to adjust to calling Padmé by her first name when we were alone.

“Once I am back at my quarters, I need one of you to track down Eirtaé and Rabé, while the other gathers supplies from the kitchens.” She smiles when my face lights up. “You know what to bring, Sabé?”

“I was meant for this sort of job, Your Worshipfulness.”

To Padmé’s credit, she doesn’t roll her eyes at the title. “Excellent. We shall meet at my quarters in an hour.”

Having been given these tasks, I quickly make my way to the kitchens and load up a hovercart with essentials. Even though I wanted to cry at the news that they would not have sweetcakes prepared in the near future, I took a plate of delicious-looking cupcakes topped with blue icing and gold sprinkles. Muja fruit pods, salty crisps, and a heaping load of biscuits complete my list of must-haves.

I wave to Cook Nara and turn the corner with the hover cart. Padmé’s quarters are, thankfully, a short distance away from the kitchens which should mean I won’t run into many passersby while on my mission.

My stomach growls at the sight of the cupcakes on the top and I surreptitiously take one from the top and begin eating. _Mmmmm…_ Cook Nara has outdone herself with these. Humming slightly, I take another bite and come to a screeching halt, metaphorically speaking, to prevent a collision with the figure turning the corner at this exact moment.

I huff out a laugh as Obi-Wan gracefully dodges the cart. Of _course_ I had to encounter him, of all people. He takes one glance at the cart, and the half-eaten cupcake in my left hand, before saying: “I sincerely hope this isn’t the precursor to another food fight.”

“Certainly not,” I take another bite and swallow. “I’ve met my quota for this quarter and will resume all food-fighting activities within a few months.”

“How productive of you,” he drawls, a smile lighting his face. “I’m certain the Queen is pleased with your commitment to such goals.”

“I like to interpret her silence on the matter as approval.” I look behind him. “Where’s Anakin?”

“That is exactly what I was wondering. He seems to have disappeared.” Obi-Wan blinks when I offer him a cupcake. He takes it before continuing. “It has been a difficult transition,” For the both of them, I suspect… “I haven’t had the opportune moment to discuss everything with him.”

“In that case, take another one of these,” He chuckles when I pass him a second cupcake.

“I’m not certain that loading him up with sugar will resolve matters.”

“My judgment concerning food is not to be questioned. Now, if I had sweetcakes, it would solve everything but you will have to settle for this.”

“I will take your word for it.”

“Also… if Anakin has been missing for a while, he’s probably in the main hangar with the pilots. I imagine he feels comfortable there─”

“─because it’s a familiar atmosphere.” Obi-Wan finishes, his voice trailing off. “I should have thought of that.”

The sadness in his tone is nearly imperceptible but it’s enough to make my heart sink into my stomach. The position the both of them are in can’t be easy… one having lost a Master, while the other is separated from his mother.

“For what it’s worth, I think the two of you will make a great team.”

He seems taken off guard, judging by the slight lift of his eyebrow. “Thank you, Sabé.”

“You’re welcome.” I pull a disgusted face and his eyes spark in familiar challenge. “Now that I’ve also met my quota for kindness as well, I will resume my sarcastic remarks towards you.”

“I would expect nothing less.” I silently triumph in the fact that he’s broken through his sadness for a moment before he points to my mouth. “By the way… you have something… “

I wipe at the side of my mouth with the back of my hand and wince when I spot the blue icing there. “Would you believe it if I said I was saving that for later?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Well, shavit.

* * *

 

“May the Stars bless Cook Nara in everything she does.” Yané says. A collection of dreamy sighs follow as we lie on our backs in a circular shape, staring up at the ceiling.

The meeting Padmé called has progressed in a manner similar to many of our sleepovers and less like an official debrief between Queen and Handmaidens. I rest my hand on my overly full stomach and feel my eyelids sinking heavily. This is the most relaxed I’ve felt in weeks…

“So, who’s this Pilot Bran I’ve heard so much about?” Rabé asks. I roll over and immediately regret the action.

“Saché has been rather mum on the subject. Padmé and I did manage to meet him though and… “ I trail off for dramatic effect, watching the rest of the girls shift closer.

“… And!?” Eirtaé is the first to break. “Don’t keep us in suspense.”

“He’s a total supernova.” Padmé rests her hand on her face while the others giggle. “C’mon, Padmé you know it’s true.”

“He does have a pleasant symmetry to his face.”

“See? The Queen has declared it and it must be so.”

“You’re _ridiculous_.”

“I wonder when and how they met?” Eirtaé adds while Yané shifts suspiciously. All eyes turn towards her and she freezes.

“Yané… “ Eirtaé drawls.

“Yes, Eirtaé?”

“Have you been holding out on us?”

Her eyes widen comically. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You _do_ know something!” I move over towards her, causing her to squeak and hide her face in her folded arms. “You know you want to tell us!”

“I promised Saché I wouldn’t!” Her voice is muffled and she misses the drop-jawed look we share. “When I make a promise, I keep it!”

Sighing, I pat her on the back of the head. “I know, Yané. We’re just teasing.”

Slowly, she lifts her head and smiles at the group of us. “I will say this… most relationships that begin under duress tend to have a quick expiration date. However, I think this one might defy the odds.”

The five of us burst into laughter.

“Speaking of supernovas,” Rabé says, after we’ve calmed down. “Have you ever noticed Guard Kendon?”

“Oh, he is a cute one.” Padmé agrees quickly. “I think he has his sights on Avé. I saw them holding hands once.”

“Oh, that’s just adorable. She’s a sweet girl, especially having managed to work for Admistrator Sarin without complaining.” Rabé shudders. “I’d prefer Panaka over her any day.”

“You know who else is a supernova?” Eirtaé’s grin is nothing short of wicked. I reach for my glass of water and take a hearty gulp. “Jedi Kenobi.”

Water sprays out of my mouth and all over Rabé, who shrieks. “Sabé!”

I can’t manage a reply, as I’m trying not to cough up a lung. Eirtaé comes over to me and pounds my back. “Breathe, Sabé, breathe!”

After a terrifying moment of near-asphyxiation, I breathe in deeply and cough once more. “I’m alright, I’m alright… Sorry, Rabé.”

“By your reaction, I take it that you agree with me.” My face turns scarlet at Eirtaé’s sly tone.

“That’s a load of kriffing nonsense.”

“Aw, she’s swearing already.” Rabé chimes in, looking just as wicked as Eirtaé. “Surely you’ve noticed his looks, Sabé.”

“If I say I have, will you all leave me alone?”

“Yes, the torment will end if you do.” I narrow my eyes at Padmé. She’s enjoying this far too much.

“Fine… he isn’t─I’ve noticed─he’s not entirely─” Kriff, why can’t I manage a proper sentence? “He’s a supernova. There. I said it.”

Thankfully, Padmé keeps her word and changes the subject away from handsome, quick-witted Jedi with sparkling blue eyes and boyish smiles. Someone I have no business spending any time thinking about beyond the immediate.

“On a serious note, we have to discuss a stand-in for Saché while she recovers. One of the Palace Handmaidens has resigned and she can take the secretarial side of that position for now.”

I struggle to picture Saché as a secretary, even for a brief time. Administrator Sarin won’t know what hit her.

“Panaka has suggested a temporary replacement from outside,” Eirtaé and I share a look before she turns to Padmé.

“A replacement from outside of the Royal Handmaidens? Who is he thinking to recruit?”

“The girl who led Green Group during our recapture of the Palace, Dané.” A different type of heat floods my face. Panaka has lost his kriffing mind.

“You’re telling me that Panaka wants to bring in the girl who blatantly disregarded orders and put her whole squad at risk?”

Padmé meets my glare without wavering. “She has apologized to everyone involved, Sabé. I knew this would be difficult for you, which is why I’m discussing it now before any decisions are made.”

“She should apologize! She was reckless and put my sister at risk─” I exhale once, trying to keep my temper from boiling over. This isn’t my decision to make. “I’m sorry, Padmé.”

“Try to see it from her perspective. She had to watch friends and comrades sacrifice their lives.” My stomach sinks at the reminder of what we’ve all witnessed. “And I believe she has skills that could be useful to us. Wouldn’t you want a second chance?”

I look at her once more, shrinking at the tears pooling in her eyes. “Why do you have to be right so often, Padmé?”

“I don’t feel like I have been.” She catches herself, as if the words weren’t meant to be said. “I... “ her face crumbles, sobs shaking her body. We all gather close, wrapping our arms around and over each other.

“So many people─” Tears of my own streak down my face as Padmé continues. “Master Jinn… all the pilots and guards, the Gungans that sacrificed their lives, I wanted to─I wanted to save them all. We won but things aren’t okay… I don’t think they ever will be.”

“Padmé,” Eirtaé sniffles once. “You did everything you could. We wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for your plan.”

“I shouldn’t have let the Trade Federation hover around us for as long as I did, I shouldn’t have waited so long for the Republic to act, I shouldn’t─”

“Padmé,” she looks up at me, eyes red and swollen from crying. “If you keep thinking about what you should or shouldn’t have done, you’ll just drive yourself crazy.”

“You think I don’t know that, Sabé? What about you and your excessive cleaning? You haven’t been sleeping at all.” I falter as her words strike true. “Please don’t lie to me and say that you’re okay.”

My words bottleneck in my throat. How am I supposed to say what I’m feeling when I can’t explain it? “You’re right… Padmé. I’m not okay. Neither are you. But… maybe that’s the point? We don’t have to pretend with each other. That might be the only way we’ll ever heal.”

“Statistics show that speaking about traumatic events with trusted ones have a healing effect on the mind.” Yané murmurs, her mouth quivering. “Or… at least that’s what I read somewhere.”

“Can we make a promise to each other?” Rabé asks, turning all attention towards her. “We know we can trust each other and Saché if she feels like sharing. Let’s promise that we won’t pretend when it’s just us.”

“I can agree with that,” Eirtaé wipes her eyes and looks at the rest of us. “Yané, Sabé, Padmé?”

We nod in response.

Huddled together, crying on each others’ shoulders is how we continue for a long time afterwards. I could think of no jokes, no quick remarks to break through the din.

All I know is this: I will do everything in my power to protect these people that I love dearly.

* * *

 

**From SVRHM@RNSF to YARHM@RNSF 2247 GST Subject: [Encoded 45621] Help**

_I know you’re not asleep over there. Maybe you can help me with something?_

_SV_

**From YARHM@RNSF to SVRHM@RNSF 2247 GST Subject: RE: [Encoded 45621] Help**

_How’d you know I was still awake? I could have been in a NREM state that appeared to the observer as false._

_How can I help you?_

_YA_

**From SVRHM@RNSF to YARHM@RNSF 2248 GST Subject: RE: [Encoded 45621] Help**

_I know you, Yané. If you’re not passed out, face-first, on your bed it means you’re still awake._

_How difficult would it be to, hypothetically speaking, slice into a datapad encoded to a person? Just out of curiosity, no ulterior motives or anything._

_SV_

**From YARHM@RNSF to SVRHM@RNSF 2248 GST Subject: RE: [Encoded 45621] Help**

_Well, now I know that I know how odd my sleeping seems to be, I am unsure about ever falling asleep again._

_It depends on if the person themselves has invested in any sort of anti-slicing protection or firewalls. I could, hypothetically speaking, make my way in if I know their personal data address and code attached to the datapad in question?_

_YA_

**From SVRHM@RNSF to YARHM@RNSF 2248 GST Subject: RE: [Encoded 45621] Help**

_So, hypothetically speaking, you could, maybe, slice your way into a datapad and delete some unfortunate pictures accidentally left on said datapad by a certain someone who shall remain nameless?_

_SV_

**From YARHM@RNSF to SVRHM@RNSF 2248 GST Subject: RE: [Encoded 45621] Help**

_This should be good. Whose datapad did you ‘accidentally,’ leave your silly pictures on this time around?_

_YA_

**From SVRHM@RNSF to YARHM@RNSF 2249 GST Subject: RE: [Encoded 45621] Help**

_Obi-Wan’s…_

_SV_

**From SVRHM@RNSF to YARHM@RNSF 2249 GST Subject: [Encoded 45621] Help**

_HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA_

_Oh, Sabé. I needed that laugh._

_YA_

**From SVRHM@RNSF to YARHM@RNSF 2249 GST Subject: RE: [Encoded 45621] Help**

_So, does this mean you’ll help!?_

_SV_

**From SVRHM@RNSF to YARHM@RNSF 2251 GST Subject: RE: [Encoded 45621] Help**

_Yané!?_

_SV_

**From SVRHM@RNSF to YARHM@RNSF 2252 GST Subject: RE: [Encoded 45621] Help**

_Oh, so NOW you choose to fall asleep._

_I see how it is._

_SV_

  * Message thread between Royal Handmaidens Sabé Vena and Yané Ara



* * *

 

I must be dreaming again… which means I’ve finally fallen asleep long enough to enter this particular sleep cycle.

I’m brought back to a familiar place, where a beautiful, shimmering waterfall cascades into a circular pool below. The grass around me is vivid and green; a warm breeze floats through the area. I breathe deeply and enjoy the sounds of running water, which reminds me of Kaadara.

In an instant, my surroundings change to my favorite shoreline. If I narrow my eyes, I can see my father’s fishing rig hovering in the distance. The waves wash forward and backwards, ending just before my feet before retreating again.

“ _Handmaiden_ … “ I look to my right and see Qui-Gon. He seems more content than the last time I dreamed about him, which did involve tap-dancing and threatening Palpatine so I suppose the comparison falls flat.

“ _Hello, Master Jinn. You don’t have your tap shoes on this time.”_

His brow furrows. “ _Tap shoes_?”

“ _Yes! Also, Obi-Wan and Palpatine aren’t here so there won’t be any bad poetry or lightsabers that spit confetti, though the latter is somewhat amusing_.”

“ _Confetti_?” he echoes and I frown.

“ _Goodness, Master Jinn. You didn’t parrot this much before_.” He opens his mouth but I continue on. “ _I_ _wish I could say this to you in person, but I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. Even with the warning, it didn’t seem to matter. The galaxy needs people like you, the ones who are real heroes.”_

“ _It was not your fault, Sabé_.” His voice is kind, just like I remember.

“ _Well, I know that you’re just my subconscious trying to make me feel better, but thank you, all the same_.”

“ _You do not belong here_.” I shrug, looking up at him. Kriff, he’s so much taller than me. I really hope I’ll grow more over the next few years.

“ _No, I suppose not. I always felt an attachment to Theed and Padmé certainly needs my help_.”

“ _Do not misunderstand me_.” His tone causes me to step back. Something isn’t right. “ _You do not belong_ **here**.”

Fear churns in my stomach. Surely he can’t mean…

“ _A girl with knowledge of the future, taken from a place where this galaxy is a mere story_ ,” Qui-Gon shakes his head, as if in mourning. “ _You carry a great burden, as I said before_.”

The beach begins to quiver, cracks spider-webbing beneath our feet. The wind picks up with an unearthly howl. I can hardly see Qui-Gon through my hair flying around my face.

“ _Why are you saying this? What do you know_?” I raise my voice over the storm forming around us.

He places his hand on my shoulder. “ _I hope your path leads you to happiness, Alyssa.”_

I awake with a start, heart racing and breathing heavily. None of the other girls stir around me as I try to calm my nerves. That wasn’t just a dream. It couldn’t have been.   _Alyssa…_

Qui-Gon called me by my name from my past life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... does anyone have any theories as to why Qui-Gon used her name from her past life? I'd love to read them! Also, we only have one chapter left in the Phantom Menace arc before we venture into new territory, which I am SO excited about. Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoyed the chapter. May many supernovas cross your path until we meet again.


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